Baby Lord by Hot Apollo

She wears her spark like a fox in the dark.

She comes in a cloak of allure.

She’s the queen of her dreams, and her lunacy gleams.

The light of delight’s in her purr.

Her look is a force of celestial source.

Her magic is dire and bright.

She’s a witch of the wild and a singular child.

Her wit is her power and might.

Her sorcerous breath may be sanity’s death.

Her chaos perceives no domain.

Though the realm of her rule is the view of a fool,

None sully her immanent reign.