Empire of Ash

The sky is turning charcoal gray,

As you wash the remnants of the sun away. [whispered] Long live the Queen.

You weren't content with just a corner of the night,

You had to starve the world of every spark of light.

Silly me, I thought there was a limit to the void,

But you find beauty in the things that you’ve destroyed.

The throne is getting colder, the iron’s turning black,

You’re moving forward now, there is no turning back.

I see the subjects that you gathered in your wake,

Feeding on the promises you knew you’d have to break.

You’re a master of the mirror, a phantom in the hall,

Watching from the heights and waiting for the fall.

You don’t need a kingdom made of brick and stone,

You’d rather rule a wasteland, as long as it’s your own.

The whispers turned to sirens, the spells turned into laws,

You’re hiding all the wreckage behind your velvet claws.

You hear the ticking clock? That’s the sound of the toll,

For the hollowed-out remains of a long-forgotten soul.

Oh, you’re building an empire of ash and of bone,

Sitting so high on a desolate throne.

The games have grown lethal, the stakes have gone dry,

You’re the storm in the heart of a dead winter sky.

Queen of the shadows, Empress of pain, Washing the world in your toxic rain. No remorse in your eyes, no blood in your veins,

Just the echoes of ghosts and the rattling of chains.

You call it liberation, I call it a cage,

The final, bitter sentence on a scorched-earth page.

You’ve perfected the art of the elegant lie,

Drawing maps of the stars in a soot-covered sky.

Every hand that you held is now covered in soot,

Every flower is crushed underneath your cold foot.

You don’t crave the love, you crave the bowing of the knee,

In the dark of the mirror, is that all you see?

Submerged so deep you forgot how to breathe,

Waiting for the monsters in your mind to un-sheathe.

The grace is gone, the edge is sharp,

You’re playing discord on a broken harp.

Dance on the embers, dance on the grief,

The reign of the shadow is never-ending and brief.

Oh, you’re building an empire of ash and of bone,

Sitting so high on a desolate throne.

The games have grown lethal, the stakes have gone dry,

You’re the storm in the heart of a dead winter sky.

Queen of the shadows, Empress of pain,

Washing the world in your toxic rain. No remorse in your eyes, no blood in your veins,

Just the echoes of ghosts and the rattling of chains.

Is it lonely at the top of the mountain of pride?

With nowhere to run and with nowhere to hide?

You’ve conquered the chaos, you’ve mastered the fear,

But the silence is the only thing left you can hear.

A crown of thorns, a scepter of lead, Ruling a kingdom of the living-dead.

So here you stay, in your castle of smoke, The ultimate punchline to a dark, heavy joke.

The Queen of the Night has become the Night itself,

A dusty old book on a forgotten shelf. Hah