"i hate you," i hear her say
it doesn't make me any weaker
it doesn't break any bones
but she storms out of the hall
into the corner of her room
"i am broken," she cries
in that corner all alone
whore for the century
her mother's distressed
made space in her attire for me
wear me like a dress
you know you were the one
but the slate's been erased
or maybe it was just wrong
now the correct is in its place
i am the king.
and my glory rests
on your tainted head.
i am the one.