the upright guards with their purple hearts guarding the queen of spadesnon the isle of monopoly, they've been calling her queen of fatenalong the fence of her courtyard, see her people gather 'roundnonly to catch a glimpse of her highness in her royal gownn& her circus mirror tells us what we need to knowna ring of smoke is rising up as we buy into the shownthe man of beard and sideburns, like moses with his stonesndrinks from the old river & eats leftover bonesnalong the horizon came a hired hurricanen& men of the opposition look into the eye of the rainnntouch-me-nots & lilies surround a dying horsenbeneath the golden bough, all that is true becoming falsenalong the river valleys & dead alleys, eager horses waitnpatiently, for inevitably, your turn comes in the hands of fatenwhen the old workhorse is dead & buried in the snownrain pours down, flowers bloom & grownstill the whip is driven all through night & dayn& the horses run about, eat hay, grateful when they get to playna lifetime long of work & songnwe toil with joy & painna lifetime long of slaverynto the queen of the pouring rainnnthe queen sits in her courtyard making up the rules, taking off her shoesnthe clowns juggle blindly, entertaining fools, investigating cluesnthe joker on his bicycle, rattling his bells, balancing welln& the man who lost his wallet, takes his clothes off & sells his soul to helln& the devil child with a stroke of genius strikes his mother downnthe king of ships went sailing once, was lost, was never foundnthe ailing aisle of wasted smiles is washed up on its shorenking jack & noah with a handshake, seals & settles forna night of pleasure, a night of pain, a night against the lawnnoah waits for the queen of hate & treats her like a prostituting whorennshe screams like she's been punished in the room of jack the kingnshe might even enjoy it if jack joined innthe curtains heavy with the burden of not letting light innthe king-sized bed not quite big enough for the violent rockingn& the maid never wanders in without a fair warningnin the purple chambers where the sun sleeps this morningnjack the king, he's lying in a pool of blood, noah hangs in the crowdnshe opens her doors to let the flood out, her followers bowedn& while the ocean parts, the common voice of a revolution startsnrevenge was always written in the cardsnshe's always been the queen of spades not hearts.