Mark Antony and The King of Philistines

My name is Anasthasia, yet you call me Alice
And push me down the rabbit hole with quiet malice.
You don't know a thing and you sit in your palace
Taking down the new regime you put in power.
Your voice is pretty and the songs you sing were written by somebody else,
But you make them your own with phony distress.

Well, Rasputin, you never did a thing for me!
But take down names and run the fire drill.
And when you attacked the wind mill,
It helped you pass some bills
To institute a new lottery and take our privacy.
Your lack luster ways are unmatched except among the magistracy
That read your books and follow your philosophy.

With your arrogant melancholy you draw the lines on trees,
That mark their lives away and bring them to their knees.
You never look to see, if other people disagree,
With the blind decisions that you make and how they turn out to be.
If my candle was to light your hall, you would not look at me,
Until you snuff it against pathetic pleas.

Its a waste of time, talking to myself, and I know you well,
You always keep the notes I give you in the shed next to the wishing well
And after reading my advice you toss it in the water and keep it to yourself.
But when you're lost and helpless you always come to me,
Asking for my words to bring your empire from its knees.
I already know how this will end, you see,
I've read a lot of books and seen a lot of things.

In the end I won't be known or worshiped like you,
I will crumble to the street and live in gloom.
And your self-protraits and temples, above me, will only bloom in the sun
While the world you rule, beneath you, is dark and looming undone
And you hear your souless soldiers chanting "I'll follow you up!"
But they're only going down.