[Verse 1] Another room, the candles low, she stands here by herself, Counting up the crown and castle stacked like trophies on a shelf. No sparkle in the winning, no sweetness in the spoil, Just an empty throne room echoing the cost of all that toil. "Naught's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content." She says it to the shadows, to the walls, to no one near— Getting everything she wanted somehow tastes like standing still, my dear. [Chorus] What's done is done, she tells him, trying to shut the door, But guilt don't work like doors, love, it seeps up through the floor. What's done is done, she says it, but the phrase will twist and bend— Watch it crawl back in her sleepwalk, at the story's end. [Verse 2] Macbeth comes in brooding, face like weather turning bad, She tells him stop the scowling, you'll grieve the dead right into mad. He answers with a metaphor, low and cold and plain: We've scotched the snake, not killed it—it will knit itself again. He envies good King Duncan, tucked in his quiet bed, No nightmare, no tomorrow, just peace instead of dread. Macbeth can't find that stillness, his nights are torn and spent— "O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!"—that's what he meant. [Chorus] What's done is done, she tells him, trying to shut the door, But guilt don't work like doors, love, it seeps up through the floor. What's done is done, she says it, but the phrase will twist and bend— Watch it crawl back in her sleepwalk, at the story's end. [Verse 3] Jocund means light-hearted, cheerful, easy in the chest— He calls the beetle jocund as it hums its way to rest, While hidden plots get sharpened, something dreadful's drawing near. He won't say what, he won't say who, just "wait and you will hear." He tells the night to blindfold day, put vizards—masks—on light, Seeling, like a falconer sews a hawk's eyes shut from sight. "Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed"—then stand and watch your luck. [Bridge] Two plotters started equal, partners splitting one dark key, Now he hoards the secret tighter, and she's locked outside to see. The scorpions sting him inward, while her comfort turns to dust— This is how a marriage crumbles: one withholds, and one loses trust. [Chorus] What's done is done, she tells him, trying to shut the door, But guilt don't work like doors, love, it seeps up through the floor. What's done is done, she says it, but the phrase will twist and bend— Watch it crawl back in her sleepwalk, at the story's end. [Outro] Naught's had, all's spent—remember what she learned, The crown don't warm the hands that schemed for what they've earned.
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