Carrie, how does your garden grow?

Are the souls of your enemies
Buried beneath your personal cemetery?

The victims on their knees
Begging, beseeching, pleading

Praying to you *and the same God for
Things to be as they were before

With silver bells, Carrie?

Are your nails sharpened to a point,
Itching to break bones at the joint?

To snap my wrists and tie
Them up - your peace of mind

Tortment me, ****** Carrie
Smirk and laugh before you bury

And cockle shells, Carrie?

Are you seen as a pleasurable fantasy?
A mask of terrible daydreams?

Your body caresses the loaded gun
He swears that pain is one with love

You are an instrument of pure torture
Who is viewed as a delicate sculpture

Are your pretty maids in a row?

Are we in a straight line
Waiting to be punished for our crime?

Your foolish prey meet the guillotine
One swift motion - sliced clean

Hail Carrie, the ****** empress,
Queen of deciet, and ***** mistress