Valkyries escort you across the Bifrost,
The snowflake landscape burning exhaust,
Melting to a continental empire of desire and oil,
Bow down to the same blue veined, bloodstained royals.
Shrouded in the veil, snow kissed of the Eldrich mists,
That false creed only persists with narcissists.
So order your stained glass manors by the dozen,
I’m sure you’re secure in your decisions,
It’s not like you’re held to repercussions.
Weave a tapestry of a hero to be worshipped,
Formed in the image, The very visage
Of her Highness, her Grace, her Lordship.
I don’t need grand estates or feudal titles,
Adorn me in Brussels lace and vicious cycles,
The wheel still turns, so surely it isn’t broken,
London bridges burned and I have spoken.