A master of puppets
With a string in each hand
Both tinted with pink
Both laden with bands

Of the controlling sort
But not for the kills
For the fueling of mercy
For the stripping of wills

The malice inflicted
For the sake of his greed
And own pleased position
Led him to succeed

In the beautiful show
The flawless exhibition
Cruising past mistakes
No matter turn of condition

It's truly the mark
Of a genius mind
To get caught in that grasp
Of the puppeteer's line

But that's how he works
That devious snake
To play with human-like
And to leave nothing at stake