The marionette has your number
It pullin your arms and legs till you can't stand on your own
Dragging your conscience on the stage and you heart gets rearranged
And you cannot tell your mentor from your maker
Look at the crowds bleeding with laughter
Over the way you entertain at beckon call
They don't see behind the lights or the painted background
They just like to see you fall
But you don't really mind
Cause you're just wasting time
You can't feel anything
Just a boy on a string
I feel a sadness like Gapetto
atching the life that he created run away,
eeing the puppeteer's intrusion and holding the remains
Of puppets that had rotted away
One day the curtain will not open
And all of the crowds will go away
Someday those strings will choke you
But until that day
CHORUS