No one talks of the man that made the woman mad.
What a shame to wear misogyny like that.
Bite your tongue, the den of thieves calls out.
Do you think Van Gogh ever felt this kind of powerlessness?
What kind of son makes a mad hatter out of a woman?
Sing your lullabies, the king of spin tells me.
I will not write you into victory.
A mad woman is only as mad
as the ego of a lesser creature.
At least now I am free from your ropes.
Watch me wear your haunting
like a revelation.
If I am mad,
then you are a wrath to be seen.
I will show you what madness makes
of a woman.