We argue in the kitchen about whether to have children
About the world ending and the scale of my ambition
And how much is art really worth
When the very thing you're best at is the thing that hurts the most
But you need your rotten heart, your dazzling pain like diamond rings
You need to go to war to find material to sing
I am no mother, I am no bride
I am king

I need my golden crown of sorrow, my bloody sword to swing
My empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology
'Cause I am no mother, I am no bride
I am king
I am no mother, I am no bride
I am king

But a woman is a changeling, always shifting shape
Just when you think you have it figured out, something new begins to take
And what strange claws are these scratching at my skin?
I never knew my killer would be coming from within
But I am no mother, I am no bride
I am king
I am no mother, I am no bride
I am king

And I was never as good as I always thought I was
But I knew how to dress it up
I was never satisfied, it never let me go
Just dragged me by my hair, and back on with the show

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