My body trembels as I hear your touch.
My soul aches as I see you lying on the couch.
He clipped my legs.
He tied my hair.
He was in absolute control of his puppet show.
He was in control of the masquerade which he called family.
I hate it when you tug at my strings
Just to see what reaction it will bring.
I hate it when you shout at her
For moving 1 inch incorrecly according to your perfect concerto.
The time will come
When your strings will grow weary and your empire will fall.
You will lose it all
And become nothing.
