Men who shoot their horses
Are the same men who would
like to kiss your hand
(They're waiting, in the ballrooms and the bedrooms and the bathrooms)
Men who shoot their horses
Are the same men who would
Go and shoot a friend
(Save him from chemo, my husband from chemo)
The virgin queen
The virgin queen
The virgin queen
Headless mother,
Heartless father,
Ghosts of yes-men past and future
In the bedroom you must suture up
That hole where the babies come from
England, oh, England
Never forsake me
Won't you take me to have and to hold?
I may be a crude, cruel woman
But in the distance I hear Shakespeare mumbling:
"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubled, troubled, troubles"
England, England, never forsake me
Won't you take me to have and to hold?
I can hear the voices rising
The virgin queen
The virgin queen
The virgin queen
The virgin queen
In the end you'll try to rule as best as you can
But the crown gets cold and the mind gets old
And all the gold could invite my souls
To a place to come home to
In the end there's just a bed
And the things we made have begun to fade
On the distant shores new voices are rising
[Regina singing gibberish]
The virgin queen
The virgin queen
The virgin queen
The virgin queen