Song Search

Abolitionist Daisy Fitzroy of Bioshock Infinite Tells Me The Cost of Things The Night Before She Dies

by William Of Evans

Baby boy, I don't know what to do
with the glistening neck of an innocent
any more than the exposed breastplate
of a man who branded me, if I'm the one
still clutching the blade, so I guess I treat
them both like an extra voice crawling
around in my head that needs to be carved
out until I am a hollow spell, a red river
the girls who don't smile, play in until
their hair drips like a bleeding sunset.
I loved a man once, or rather, I let him
love me long enough for him to

open my shackles. I grabbed a pistol, thanked
him by emptying his guilt at close range.
It was messy, but it decorated my favorite
dress. Maybe if we take the factory

back tomorrow, I'll let you take me dancing
in it and we can pretend to love their
music while we swing our breezy bodies
over their empty gazes from the soaked earth.

They baptized me when I was little,
ya know, and I don't mean little as in
young, I mean little as in I still thought
the Lady of the house loved me like

a daughter and not a toy to clutch during
the night. Or a pet who came when called
and rubbed my belt-worn back against
her pearl stockings. I didn't kill the lady,

didn't ever raise a fist in her holy glare.
Still ain't met a dead white woman
worth giving up the sky for.
Still haven't prepared my body for

the bronzing and spectacle to signal
their victory. They don't get to live
in a world where I ain't branded their
forehead with my crosshairs

or wrapped a scarlet ribbon ‘round
Their neck like a promise I was keeping.
Cause ain't that what real beauty is, baby?
Ain't blood spilled for the sake of the blood

being mine to keep, the shade that looks
best on me? Wouldn't you want to be on
the arm of the Belle of the Ball, before we
wash the conquest from our unbridled hair.