A harpsichord plays to a discorded marionette
Plucks music from her strings
And she will dance
She will dance the lobster quadrille
Colour bar tears down past her eyes downcast
Cascade as in freeze frame
One and then one
One and then one
Black into white

White rook to opposite bishop moves
He will have your square now
Abel this is your brother Cain
So many pawns in this game they play
Prisoners in their own free state
Behind the curtain outside they say
The black queen holds sway
In a garden so very strange
Plays out her wondrous game
She will say and she will say
Off with their heads
Off with their damn heads

To all rising king
The remains of your spoken word
An epitaph on stone
This sport is for kings
There can be no question of who or why
The kestrel clan is nigh
Who will play
Who will play the game

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