[Verse 1] She flutters fans like royal wings, But all she rules are petty things. She calls herself the court’s delight— We call her drama wrapped in spite. [Verse 2] She struts through halls in gowns too loud, A walking peacock in a cloud. She claims the stars all know her name— But even moons avoid her fame. [Verse 3] She says she’s art, she says she’s grace, But Cadira’s crown is made of lace. She hires a bard for every line— ‘Cause writing songs ain’t her design. [Chorus] Oh Cadira, queen of blush and bite, Your spotlight’s dim, your shade’s too light. You vogue, you pose, you hiss, you preen— But darling, you’re no noble queen. [Verse 4] She mocks the poor with powdered sneers, Then cries when someone pulls her ears. She calls her servant “just a tool”— But he’s the one who keeps her cool. [Verse 5] She paints her lips with dragon’s blood, Then trips and lands face-first in mud. She claims she’s kissed by royal fate— But nobles snicker when she’s late. [Verse 6] She once declared a fashion war, Because a maid wore brighter garb. She banned a bard for singing flat— Then hired him back to praise her hat. [Chorus] Oh Cadira, queen of blush and bite, Your spotlight’s dim, your shade’s too light. You vogue, you pose, you hiss, you preen— But darling, you’re no noble queen. [Verse 7] She flirts with fame, she flirts with gold, She flirts with men both young and old. She flirts with mirrors, fans, and birds— But never once with humble words. [Verse 8] She claims she’s sung in every court, But half were bribes and one was short. She says she’s got the nobles charmed— But half the guards have been disarmed. [Verse 9] She tried to roast a dragonborn, But choked mid-note and blew her horn. She called it “art,” then struck a pose— While nobles whispered, “gods, she froze.” [Chorus] Oh Cadira, queen of blush and bite, Your spotlight’s dim, your shade’s too light. You vogue, you pose, you hiss, you preen— But darling, you’re no noble queen. [Verse 10] So raise your glass and tap your toes, For every tale her ego grows. She may be loud, she may be dressed— But darling, she’s a noble jest. [Final Chorus] Oh Cadira, queen of blush and bite, Your spotlight’s dim, your shade’s too light. You vogue, you pose, you hiss, you preen— But darling, you’re no noble queen. [Bridge] She thinks she’s thunder, thinks she’s flame, But all she burns is her own name. She thinks she’s legend, thinks she’s lore— But we just call her fashion’s bore. Her beauty’s caked in powdered lies, Her gowns scream “look!” while truth just dies.
