Queen Marie Approximately & The Unholy Ghost

Come down from your high seat, Queen Marie;
you're a virgin no more.
You're hands they're painted by
the blood falling from the faithful who
followed the light in your words to the darkness of their graves.
And them bones of your young lover
who went to war,
lay washed up 'neath the rocky shores of your lonesome castle of love.

Queen Marie, Queen Marie you look so fine now,
the saint of killers in a nun's disguise.
You wanted the world with your lopsided smile,
and now you watch from the sidelines of spent calamity
just how much pain a nun could cause.
Why so silent now, Queen Marie? (And forgive the audacity
but you're vultures don't scare me)
Are there no more chances left to be taken?

The Ghost Prayer :
The powers that be,
let me see.
Don't claw out my eyes,
even if you don't let me feel.
I want to see how it all turns out,
though I know I'll still be dead.
I know what she wants, I know wat she needs;
But doesn't she know, what she already took
from me, isn't mine to give anymore.