The princess cries out,

Each tear sparkling gold,

She begs, "Mercy! Have mercy!"

For her sad and aching heart.

She says that there are werewolves

Waiting to eat her

Outside her tower

Made of wolf bones

And stolen art.

Outside,

Howls pierce the night

And a restless anger

Shakes the ground.

There is no mercy

For panging hunger

That stings the guts

Of these werewolves harsher

Than any of the princess'

Silver bullets combined.

Werewolves don't turn

Into angry beasts by

A full moon's light.

No, werewolves turn

When their children die,

Swept away by tides

Of a future destroyed

By the princess' golden shoes,

And their lives drowned

By her sparkling wine

That they pay for

Yet cannot afford.

When the tides keep coming,

The werewolves will rise,

And soon they'll tear

The princess away from her

Sheltered, pampered life.

And when they finally eat her,

She will howl in vain

And she'll gnash her ugly,

Sharp teeth.

The werewolves will regain

Their dignity and memory

And they will finally see⸺

She was the true monster

All along,

Sitting on a throne

Made of all of her subjects'

Stolen bones.