At a young age he was taught the trade, by the master of the game
In synchronised perfection, his creations he would tame
With scissors, string, and needle, the dead dolls came alive
Dancing by the fire as the spellbound crowd arrives
His double jointed marionettes would happily comply
To their wicked father’s wishes to make the children cry
The hands of their creator was needed ever more
As one collective unity, they were evil at the core
When darkness surrounds him he can hear the screams
His power will bind them far beyond their dreams
His magic will spill the blood of kings
While under the moon he pulls the strings
The power of the doll maker grew stronger every day
He plundered every village, left the kingdom in decay
His miniature a**a**ins were ordered to k** the king
He fantasised about the throne, the riches it would bring
The battle with the paladins and the soldiers of the court
Was too much for the doll maker and his army came up short
They sailed away to a distant shore, to an innocent new land
Where the dolls and their maker as rulers will command
When darkness surrounds him he can hear the screams
His power will bind them far beyond their dreams
His magic will spill the blood of kings
While under the moon he pulls the strings