The marionetter has your number
Dragging your conscience on the stage
Look at the crowds bleeding with laughter
Pulling your arms and legs till you can't stand on your own
and your heart gets rearranged
and you cannot tell your mentor from your Maker
Over the way you entertain at beckon call
They just like to see you fall
They don't see behind the lights, or the painted backgrounds But you don't really mind
Cause you're just wasting time
You can't feel anything You're a boy on a string
I feel a sadness like Gapetto
watching the life that he created run away
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
Seeing the puppeteer's intrusion,
Cause you're just wasting time
Someday those strings will choke you, but until that day But you don't really mind
You're a boy on a stringYou can't feel anything.
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