A golden coal hair.
People all stop and stair.
Dressed in a blinding black.
She's scary enough to give pretty boy a heart attack.
Drowning in her golden chair,
When she decides to go out and ride her coal Maire.
Riding fast as the wind blows by,
The Maire lifts off the ground starts to fly.
She leans back wind wiping her face.
Her cry of victory as she wins the race.
All is good and perfection won.
Yet now she sits in her chair again,
Everyone she loves is gone.
When the Maire comes back, he asks her for another spin.
