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