You're just a girl playing chess,
aren't you?
Didn't mean to set an entire world aflame;
to you, it's just a pawn, just a gambit...
But elsewhere,
men and women and children
are stalked down sterile corridors
by demons wielding syringes,
puncturing eyeballs,
and they can only run in straight lines,
and you'll realize it was always you,
you and your suicide missions.
From now on,
each time you touch a rook and lift it off the board,
an image will flash before your mind
of a hypodermic needle piercing soft flesh,
ocular tissue,
and you will be hungry despite yourself,
and no bishop can ever redeem you,
because after all,
you're just a girl playing chess,
aren't you?