[Intro — very low, poised female voice, HEAVY Russian accent, slow rolled R’s] You vill stand. You vill look down. And you vill not move... until Her Majesty allows it. [Soft heel click] Good. Now ve may begin. [Verse 1 — elegant, cold, aristocratic, heavy Russian accent] I do not enter room, room becomes my court. Every eye turns properly, every spine grows short. Crown is not decoration, darling, understand. I vas born vith royal blood running through each strand. Silk upon the marble, heels upon the floor, one small step from Tsareena and they open every door. You may call it arrogance. I call it pedigree. There are queens who need a throne. And then... there is me. [Pre-Chorus — strings rising, sharper consonants] No rushing. No reaching. No foolish little speed. In presence of Queenly Majesty, you move only vhen I please. [Chorus — grand imperial waltz, commanding female vocal] Queenly Majesty! Bow your head and mind your place. Queenly Majesty! No one moves before my grace. One-two-three, heel turns, watch the whole court freeze. One-two-three, Trop Kick... down upon your knees. I do not chase the crown, the crown belongs to me. By royal decree... Tsareena. Queenly Majesty. [Instrumental — dark ballet strings, piano, military snare, heel clicks] [Verse 2 — colder, faintly amused, MAXIMUM Russian accent] How terribly provincial, all this need to prove. You throw yourself around so much. Such... unnecessary move. I prefer precision. Posture. Balance. Line. Every kick is etiquette, every step divine. See the royal garden? Every blossom knows its role. Every vine grows where I order. Every stem remains controlled. Even victory has manners. I do not scream or boast. I simply lift one hand... and watch them raise a toast. [Spoken — intimate, icy Russian accent] You are forgetting protocol. No. You do not go first. [Pre-Chorus — restrained menace] No rushing. No reaching. No clever little plea. Priority means nothing here. Not in front of me. [Chorus — larger orchestra] Queenly Majesty! Bow your head and mind your place. Queenly Majesty! No one moves before my grace. One-two-three, heel turns, watch the whole court freeze. One-two-three, Trop Kick... down upon your knees. I do not chase the crown, the crown belongs to me. By royal decree... Tsareena. Queenly Majesty. [Bridge — slow ballet breakdown, piano and cello, almost whispered] [Very thick Russian accent, intimate, rolled R] There are rules in palace. You vill learn them. Do not interrupt. Do not presume. Do not mistake kindness... for equality. [Heel click] You may rise. [Pause] ...I said may. [Orchestra swells] [Final Verse — proud, regal, controlled power] My name travels quietly through conservatory halls. No need for little banners hanging from the walls. Queens do not announce themselves. People simply know. When Tsareena crosses marble, even chandeliers bow low. Every turn immaculate. Every gesture understood. I could crush you under heel... but darling, that vould be rude. [Final Chorus — full imperial orchestra, strongest vocal] Queenly Majesty! Bow your head and mind your place. Queenly Majesty! No one moves before my grace. One-two-three, heel turns, watch the whole court freeze. One-two-three, Trop Kick... down upon your knees. No borrowed crown, no ceremony makes royalty. It is blood. It is bearing. It is absolute authority. By royal decree... remember vhat you see. Tsareena. Tsareena. [Rolled R, sustained] Tsarrrreena. Queenly Majesty. [Outro — orchestra fades, quiet heels on marble] You may leave. [Pause] Backwards.
