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