Once upon a time there was a puppet on a string.
She thought of death and murder, and other nasty things.
Yet she knew what she'd got into,
And she always acted cruel.

Pressure can bring down the mightiest of men.
But when the women start to fall, what will happen then?
And yet this witch is falling down a dark well of despair.
A breed of girl which altogether isn't rare.

Bred to hate the world itself, and bred a xenophobe,
She seems to lose a breath with every passing stroke.
Weeping for her destiny and what's to be her fate,
She doesn't really realize what's heaped upon her plate.

And still she brightly waited for her master's next tall order,
But all the same, this pretty witch, was tottering on the border
Of insanity, which seems the path she must embrace.
And no one ever notices: her smile's painted on her face.