Lyrics

A shattered feast, a kingdom drowned,
In silence thick, the void resounds.
The silver dulled, the velvet torn,
This throne of ash she once adorned.

She lifts her cup, the tea runs red,
A crown of ghosts upon her head.
No voices left to break the air,
Just empty seats, just vacant stares.

They spoke in riddles, laughed in lies,
Their echoes drift like severed ties.
The table’s set, the stage is played,
But only she remains to stay.

One last toast to hollow years,
A sip of blood, a taste of fear.
The feast is done, the world decayed,
And still, she sits in grand charade.
No hands to hold, no cards to play,
The queen remains, the rest erased.

The Hatter’s chair, a crimson stain,
The Rabbit ran, but not in vain.
The Cheshire grin fades into dust,
Their madness lost, her reign robust.

She carved a throne in shattered glass,
A garden bloomed in graves amassed.
Her hands still shake, but not with grief,
For all of this was her belief.

They spoke in riddles, laughed in lies,
Their echoes drift like severed ties.
The table’s set, the stage is played,
But only she remains to stay.

One last toast to hollow years,
A sip of blood, a taste of fear.
The feast is done, the world decayed,
And still, she sits in grand charade.
No hands to hold, no cards to play,
The queen remains, the rest erased.

The clock is mute, the past unwinds,
A fate she wrote between the lines.
No second guesses, no retreat,
No mercy left beneath her feet.

Their whispers haunt the broken glass,
Their laughter lingers, vague and fast.
Yet in her eyes, a shadow gleams—
No ruler mourns what power deems.

One last toast to hollow years,
A sip of blood, a taste of fear.
The feast is done, the world decayed,
And still, she sits in grand charade.
No hands to hold, no cards to play,
The queen remains, the rest erased.

She tilts her cup, she takes a breath,
A toast to life, a vow to death.
The candle burns, the shadows crawl,
She won the game—but lost it all.