Men who would shoot their Horses are the Same men who would Like to kiss your hand [You love the wait, in the ballrooms And the bedrooms, and the, and the...] Men who shoot their Horses are the Same men who will Draw and shoot our friend [Save him from chemo, husband from chemo] The virgin queen... Headless mother Heartless father Ghosts of yes men past and future In the bedroom you will suture Up that hole Where babies come from England, oh, england Never forsake me Won't you take me to have and to hold I may be a cruel, crude woman But in the distance I hear Shakespeare mumbling Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against the sea of troubles... England, England, never forsake me Won't you take me to have and to hold I can hear the voice rising up The virgin queen... In the end They try to rule As best they can But the crown gets cold And mind gets old And all the gold Getting back my soul is in places unknown to be In the end Is just a bed And the things we have made Have begun to fade On the distant shores new voices are rising... The virgin queen...