The marionetter has your number
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Pulling your arms and legs till you can't stand on your own
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Dragging your conscience on the stage
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and your heart gets rearranged
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and you cannot tell your mentor from your Maker
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Look at the crowds bleeding with laughter
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Over the way you entertain at beckon call
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They don't see behind the lights, or the painted backgrounds
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They just like to see you fall
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But you don't really mind
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Cause you're just wasting time
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You can't feel anything
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You're a boy on a string
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I feel a sadness like Gapetto
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watching the life that he created run away
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Seeing the puppeteer's intrusion,
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and holding the remains of puppets that had rotted away
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One day the curtain will not open
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And all of the crowds will go away
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Someday those strings will choke you, but until that day
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But you don't really mind
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Cause you're just wasting time
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You can't feel anything
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You're a boy on a string
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Boy On A String
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Jars Of Clay |