• Puppet Master, holding my strings.
    Puppet Master, living like a king.
    You can’t possibly conceive
    All the things I’ve come to believe.

    You control every move.
    But all puppets have something to prove.
    I’m not just a toy to be thrown away.
    Yet when you’re done with me, in the box I lay.

    You take me out, one last time.
    Quietly I smile, planning the crime.
    I cut the strings, you control no longer.
    Now I’ll leave you here, left to ponder.

    You fall asleep, in your warm bed.
    With no idea what’s going on in my head.
    I’ll wake you up, just to dance on the strings.
    And now, for once, I’ll live like the king.