She's sittin', lookin' pretty
In the heart of this evil city
Such a shame and such a pity
That tomorrow she must die.

For she represents a new age
Away from this gilded birdcage
Where freedom is the new rage
And we hold our heads up high.

The women line the streets now
Tp glimpse her proud head unbowed
To hear her sweet voice speak loud
And no eye will be left dry.

Tomorrow they'll come to fetch her
Unshackle & undress her
Bring her to the confessor
And condemn her with their lies.

Soon the executioner's pyre
Will taste what it desires
The flames will lift her higher
Set loose her soul to fly.

And when all is said and done
The mourners bang the funeral drum
Her song will not be left unsung
The tide has turned as she desired.

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others