sylvia plath Lyrics

I am the pawn that hits the king when he's weak

His knees tremble on his blood wet throne

And his servants rush to his rescue, to see his veins pulsing by his own blade

I'm the prince, having to keep queen smile

The yard of birds screams, gasp for air

Seated for the final show

That Sylvia Plath has made

To show her face and her new blue hair

To slay the beast with a sword covered in lye

To make the big hairs gasp

My Sylvia Plath