She once was our star, the shining regal beauty She strolls down the lane as is her duty No longer glittering, flittering and lithe and blithe
She is now black and blue. She limps and coughs and cries to you.
She waves one hand bruised, body abused, battered, and tattered.
She shakes her head and wonders if she ever really mattered.
How many more Queens will appear in this parade For the blind spectators to smile in another grand charade.
How much more can we mar, as we wield the scapal to scar.
I am angry, I am sad, I a fervid and I am vehemently mad.
Dear old princess I can hear your frail moan Her dirty satin ribbon across her chest reads YELLOWSTONE