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
Some time those strings will choke you, but until that day
well you won't really mind
and you're just wasting time
You don't feel anything
You're a boy on a string