Tarot · Track 34 · middle
Queen of Wands
RWS: a queen on a throne carved with lions and sunflowers, a black cat seated at her feet, a wand in one hand and a sunflower in the other, facing out. Keywords: warmth that commands, magnetism, confidence that pulls a room, and the cat that sees everything.
No audio yet — generation pending.
Lyrics
She’s got the center of the living room locked Sitting in the yellow chair with the lion-paw feet Everybody shuts up when she starts to talk Drawn in by the sheer, undeniable heat She’s holding a piece of pine kindling in her palm And a heavy, nodding sunflower in her right She doesn’t have to issue a single command To be the absolute center of gravity tonight Oh, pull up a cushion to the Queen of the Fire She’s spinning the room on a copper wire Making you feel like the only one in the light It’s a beautiful trick, it’s a generous game To offer your hands to the local flame But watch the black cat sitting quiet at the hem of her dress He knows how much work goes into looking effortless The cat blinks twice at the edge of the rug Mapping the neuro-geometry of the crowd He watches her pour from a heavy clay jug Her laugh is infectious, but it isn’t quite loud Eleven stems of yellow piled on the table She gestures with the wood like a conductor’s wand Keeping the whole swaying ecosystem stable By pulling the invisible strings she’s holding on Oh, pull up a cushion to the Queen of the Fire She’s spinning the room on a copper wire Making you feel like the only one in the light It’s a beautiful trick, it’s a generous game To offer your hands to the local flame But watch the black cat sitting quiet at the hem of her dress He knows how much work goes into looking effortless When the party finally thins to the bone And the glasses are empty and the ashes sink low She doesn’t slump down, she doesn’t groan She just stares at the embers’ absolute glow The warmth isn’t borrowed, the heat is her own But fire needs feeding, and the shadows grow So pull up a cushion to the Queen of the Fire She’s spinning the room on a copper wire Making you feel like the only one in the light It’s a beautiful trick, it’s a generous game To offer your hands to the local flame And the black cat closes his eyes at the hem of her dress Resting his chin in the warmth of the mess One sunflower left on the cushion She strikes a match Just to watch it catch