Марионетка и темный Лорд

The Marionette and the Dark Lord

In a theater veiled by night,
Where the moon casts eerie light,
A marionette dances all alone,
Strings pulled by a hand unknown.

Her eyes are void, her smile is thin,
A puppet caught in sin’s grim spin.
Whispers rise from shadows deep:
«Awake, arise, and never sleep.»

Oh, marionette, your strings are tied
To the Dark Lord, who never dies.
In his gaze, your soul takes flight,
Dancing to the edge of night.

Candles flicker, waltz of flame,
Echoes call her hidden name.
Every step, a pact untold,
Every move, a deal with gold.

The stage is set, the curtain falls,
Her shadow dances with his spells.
No escape, no second chance—
Only his will, his dark command.

Oh, marionette, your strings are tied
To the Dark Lord, who never dies.
In his gaze, your soul takes flight,
Dancing to the edge of night.

Clock strikes thirteen, the air turns cold,
His laughter rings, a tale untold.
She spins and twirls, a ghostly grace,
Trapped forever in his embrace.

When the dawn breaks, she stands still,
A hollow shell, a lifeless thrill.
But when the night returns once more,
She dances on, her fate in store.

Oh, marionette, your strings are tied
To the Dark Lord, who never dies.
In his gaze, your soul takes flight,
Dancing to the edge of night.