[Intro – spoken, hushed, ceremonial] Step softly. The floor remembers footsteps. The walls remember names. And the throne… The throne remembers everything. [Verse I – spoken, measured, echoing] She was crowned in crimson, Not with gold, but with verdicts. Every heart in the deck bent willingly, Afraid of the sound of her breath stopping. Her smile was stitched from mercy never used, Her gaze a blade that learned your secrets first. Love, to her, was a law And laws were written to be broken publicly. [Interlude – spoken, closer, conspiratorial] They say she loved once. They say it failed. History was edited shortly after. [Verse II – spoken, slow, ritualistic] Cards trembled in their hands, Roses learned the cost of honesty. A whisper could be treason, A blink an admission of guilt. She did not ask questions. She delivered conclusions. Justice, in her court, Arrived before the crime. [Bridge – spoken, distant, reverent] Off with their heads, they cried, But it was never rage. It was tradition. It was order. It was love, sharpened until it no longer resembled itself. [Verse III – spoken, darker, tightening] The Queen of Hearts does not sleep. She waits. Listens to the pulse of rebellion, Counts the beats between loyalty and doubt. Every crown is temporary, she knows. Every neck is not. [Outro – spoken, low, final] So mind your manners. Mind your words. Mind your heart most of all. Do not cross her… or it will be off with your head.
