Technically a songfic. As with most songfics, probably flows best with the song in the background, though timing may be off depending on how fast one reads.

It truly was a crime of the Terrans to make music addictive. For years Prince Lotor's only anthem had been battle cries, the weeping of slaves and enemies, and the drunken riots of victory. A lot of things had changed since she'd come along. Lotor set the song to play again—just one more time, for the seventh time. The sound of an accordion struck him as a whining, weeping sort of artificial laugh. Music made no sense.

Well I know… I miss more than hit…

A bitter truth, but one he was gradually being forced to accept. There were plenty of sources telling Lotor so—the cackling witch, his father, his angel's own eyes every time she celebrated another victory over him. What power did she have, what enchantment was it that prevented him from winning?

...With a face that was launched to sink.
And I seldom feel the bright relief. It's been the worst day… since yesterday.

It had been the worst day since yesterday, that was the problem. A Terran band from a century before had somehow captured the essence of his daily life, the fact that every single day things just got worse.

And if there's one thing that I have said, is that the dreams I once had now lie in bed.

She would be sleeping right now, every dream he'd ever had—an expansive empire, the most beautiful queen ever to live… lying asleep, vulnerable yet completely protected from him. There was no justice in the universe.

As the Four Winds blow my wits through the door… This has been the worst day… since yesterday.
Fallin' down, to you sweet ground! Where the flowers they bloom, well it's there I'll be found.
Hurry back to me my Wild Calling! It's been the worst day… since yesterday.

He lay on the stone floor facing the ceiling, unable to do much more than picture his Wild Calling, surrounded by Arusian flowers, his one unattainable prize with this scratchy, haggard , Terran voice ringing in his head with drums, guitars, and unidentifiable Terran instruments of an angry, electric folk song of failure. He knew it didn't make any logical sense now, reeling from another defeat, to think about going back for her again—to another defeat. To fall back to the ground, the only thing which always caught him when he fell. It hurt.

Oh these wounds have seen no wars!—at least there was one contention with this song of failure—except for the scourge I have ignored. There were scourge plenty enough on Doom, scourge within and without, Lotor his own scourge he knew…
And this sinless crutch, well it's never enough… It's been the worst day… since yesterday.

The song was ending, and this being the eighth repetition in a row, Lotor had at least worked himself into sitting upright. Doom was, in one place or another, all the rings of hell, and he could hear it calling hello to him in time with the strings, drums, and accordion of the song. But there were no green pastures here—no place of rest except for on Arus, if he could ever manage to get even a foothold in the place…

Hurry back to me, my Wild Calling! It's been the worst day… since yesterday. It's been the worst day since yesterday.
It's been the worst day since yesterday.

Lotor rose, got his helmet, and marched out of his private quarters to the bridge of his flagship. The song echoed in his head, bouncing off dark metal walls and rebounding in the corridor.

"Sir?" the acting captain said, relinquishing the seat.

"This has been the worst day since yesterday," Lotor growled. There was a wave of assent in the bridge as they went off to chase his wild calling once more.