Ronnie sits atop a golden coffin,
her heels click a beat on the glass top,
talking to rainbows,
about barbed wire and bullets that threatened to run down her face like tear drops.
She sings a sweet song of freedom,
reclaiming the voice that was locked behind golden gates and walls of waiting.
Lana lies atop a golden cloud,
watching women out of her reach,
reach out to her,
saying her name,
wailing for justice.
She watches an elevator go down,
to the basement,
evil deep inside,
returning to his hellish home,
where he will be nothing, forever.
