Our lives have drastically changed,
now that La Corona has been enthroned.
Fearsome, terrible, and sleek,
waving as she casts her deadly spell,
all wail her royal highness, the queen of hell.
Some claim she pities children,
only harming a handful so far,
and that she is the opposite of colour-blind,
first attacking bodies with a lighter hue,
with plans to make those with darker ones blue.
La Manifique engages in a coquettish March,
striding as she takes many breaths away.
Whenever she pays her subjects royal visits,
she lights feverish fires inside them,
and in her presence, all lung-curses stem.
She makes prison cells of bodies and homes,
exciting and depressing, nothing in-between,
and in our daily bid to succeed her throne,
we pray that God takes the queen
and approves our desperate win.