Patrick Fitzgerald - Porcelain (The Last Queen of Vietnam) lyrics

Why don't they turn these crowds away? I'm not in a vitrine on display Not an ivory curiosity Bring me my morning baguette Bring me mulberries I can weave this silk myself My thumb is hard I'm not made of ivory, not a curiosity They think me feeble For I was born a Queen They think me useless Corseted [Ornamental] charlatan Idiots I'm iron in every tendon and crossbeam A perfect scheme Not mere porcelain My fist is pulsing now Your flesh it's desiring Remove the veil You'll not find me quivering There's no modesty In my ferocity Where is my way out? My way out of here?