Much like a puppet on a string,
I let you tell me what to do.
How I moved, what I said,
were all controlled by you.

You painted a smile upon my face
so all who looked who would see
that we lived our lives together,
in perfect harmony.

But wood is not my favourit look
and so I cut the strings.
I wanted to walk all by myself
and longed to spread my wings.

And now the smile's not painted on,
but genuine, warm and true.
I stand up tall on my own two feet
and none of it's down to you