The Queen of Sheba

I met the Queen of Sheba
down by the city pier.
The night was filled with carnival drums
and the smell of flowers and beer.
She told me she had no money,
so I bought her some bread and wine.
I didn't believe a word she said,
but I took her hand in mine.

And she said, "You can come along with me,
just know you'll come alone.
My kingdom has no borders,
but no man can sit on its throne."

I loved the Queen of Sheba,
though her eyes were filled with madness.
I knelt before her loneliness
and worshiped her sweet sadness.
And we lay together on the wet grass,
with a coat spread out beneath her.
She said, "I didn't want it to be like this."
I said, "No, my love, me either."

And she said, "You can come inside me,
just know you'll come alone.
My kingdom has no borders,
but no man can sit on its throne."

But when the sun rose over me,
I saw her clothes beside the sea
and I knew she'd been carried away
by the black tides moving through the bay –
the tides that join a woman and a man,
just to break them apart upon the sand.

Now if I were wise as Solomon,
I still don't think I'd know:
is it better to love a woman in pain,
or better to let her go?
And I think of the Queen of Sheba
every time I see you cry
and I want so much to comfort you,
but I don't know how to try.

For no matter how much it is we love,
we always love alone.
The heart's a kingdom with no borders,
but no one can sit on its throne.
The heart's a kingdom with no borders,
but no one can claim its throne.
The heart's a kingdom with no borders,
but no one can claim its throne.

Tam Lin