Coronation
Simon Jeffes, Neil Rennie
The queen is dead
And on her dress, the polka dots collide
Her dog covers me with a white stain
My hands flutter
As if I breathe
The long hinged nose slices the face of the household God
The queen is dead
And on her dress, the polka dots collide
Her dog covers me with a white stain
My hands flutter
As if I breathe
The long hinged nose slices the face of the household God