Apologia

Lo, and lo
 There aren't queens, ho
 There are streets you paint with gold
 And dreams told of pearl
 Stung with lanterns bright
 With promise since earned by day
 Spurned to fright
 Tuned to phantoms a-flail
 and scorched into sky
 Forgive, forgive what's kind
 Make believe, make believe
 Poppies make 'em sleep like a witch dooms mine
 Make believe, make believe midnight's chime
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 'cause they closed the cantina
 They closed the cardinal rouge
 They drove 'ol Angelina
 Shuttered her with dread
 Oh, hearth, hearth of a great war
 Your first chance fills my hand
 Penultimate and vast
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 Say it so, there aren't queens, lo!
 By what means though shall we reign
 'Gainst pitched black and Union Jack
 Your gods aren't coming back
 The owl's in the knave
 Ghost-cinders, tinder-safe
 Forgive, forgive what's asked
 Make believe, make believe
 Poppies make 'em sleep like a witch churns ash
 Make believe, make believe
 My loom and lash
 Make believe, make believe
 My loom and lash