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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
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