Porcelain palace of mosaics and murals,
and deafening silence that sounded so royal.
My body in bed, nobody heard
I was catching my breath, none but a bird.

Then a familiar sound suddenly hits me,
like an herbal woodland anthem, so pretty.
Traitors would drop their scythes and their swords for,
if only it meant that the nightingale sings more.

I don’t get it or know why I got saved,
since you know I wouldn’t have done the same.
I don’t get it, you know you don’t get paid,
and when we last met you were in a cage.

And you explained, you said beauty is a breeze,
felt when it came and it comes at ease,
but try to force it and it gets back at you,
and I tell you, that was the moment I knew.

The court started dancing to the beat and the liquor,
and feelings that mocktails don’t have start to linger.
You could keep your eyes on the shiniest clone,
but once you see the real deal it’ll never come close.

Now that it hit me, now that I get it,
You can’t make great waves, you can’t change the wind.*