[Verse 1] In the attic, where the shadows creep, She dwells in silence, where the dead donโ€™t sleep. A girl with eyes like frostbitten glass, Collecting remnants of a porcelain past. Broken dolls with cracked and hollow stares, Tangled hair and limbs in disrepair. With needle and thread, she binds their pain, Whispering life to the lost and slain. Her fingers dance on porcelain skin, Sewing their souls where the cracks begin. Each stitch a spell, each knot a vow, She builds her army, sheโ€™s their mother now. [Chorus] Oh, her army of the shattered dolls, Marching through the midnight halls. With hollow eyes and twisted grins, Their porcelain hearts beat sin by sin. In the dark, they rise, they crawl, Her broken children hear her call. The queen of shards, her throne of bone, The shattered dolls will claim their own. [Verse 2] The townsfolk whisper of the girl upstairs, Of flickering lights and answered prayers. They say the dolls move when the moon is high, Their glassy eyes reflecting crimson skies. She found them discarded, abandoned, and torn, In alleys, in ditches, forgotten, forlorn. Each one a story, each one a ghost, She gave them a purpose, a terrible host. Her needle hums like a funeral dirge, Her threads weave curses where shadows converge. She sings to them softly, a lullaby grim, Her voice like a requiem, cold and thin. [Chorus] Oh, her army of the shattered dolls, Marching through the midnight halls. With hollow eyes and twisted grins, Their porcelain hearts beat sin by sin. In the dark, they rise, they crawl, Her broken children hear her call. The queen of shards, her throne of bone, The shattered dolls will claim their own. [Bridge] The wind howls low, the floorboards creak, The dollsโ€™ soft whispers begin to speak. โ€œWe are your vengeance, we are your blade, Born from the sorrow that you remade.โ€ Their stitches tighten, their joints align, A legion of fractures, a will divine. She leads them forth in the dead of night, A porcelain army, a ghastly sight. The village trembles, the church bells wail, As shadows of dolls in the moonlight sail. Their tiny hands clutch at hearts that race, Their painted smiles hunt the human race. She laughs, a sound like a breaking glass, The girl who turned ruin to a merciless mass. [Verse 3] No one knows why she began her craft, What broke her heart, what stole her laugh. Some say a doll was her only friend, Betrayed by the world, she swore its end. Now her creations, with button-eyed glee, Carve through the night in a murderous spree. Their tiny feet tap a rhythm of dread, A requiem played for the soon-to-be-dead. She watches in silence, her work complete, Her army of dolls at her bloodstained feet. The world will fall to her delicate hands, A queen of ruin in a shattered land. [Chorus] Oh, her army of the shattered dolls, Marching through the midnight halls. With hollow eyes and twisted grins, Their porcelain hearts beat sin by sin. In the dark, they rise, they crawl, Her broken children hear her call. The queen of shards, her throne of bone, The shattered dolls will claim their own. [Outro] In the attic, where the shadows dwell, She reigns eternal in her private hell. Her dolls surround her, their voices low, Singing of vengeance in a crimson glow. And if you listen, when the night is still, Youโ€™ll hear her laughter from the house on the hill. The girl, the dolls, their unholy spark, An army of nightmares that rules the dark.