The marionetter has your number

Pulling your arms and legs till you can't stand on your own

Dragging your conscience on the stage

and your 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 backgrounds

They just like to see you fall



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

Seeing 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



But you don't really mind

Cause you're just wasting time

You can't feel anything

You're a boy on a string