I've danced for so long,
Driven by the ambitions of others.
Any girl that wandered into the dusty back room,
Picked me up off of my hook
And gave me music to dance to
Was the girl I loved.
For so long,
I danced and danced,
But then I was set aside
Until discovered again.
Each time the current puppeteer grew tired of her toy,
She would drop me in a heap.
And so happened time and time again.
With each new puppeteer I changed a little more,
Until I no longer felt the need to dance.
Then, after a while of thinking,
I stoop up and walked over to a desk in the corner.
In the desk there was a drawer.
In the drawer was a knife.
And now my strings are gone.
I still dance sometimes,
But I dance by myself,
Not driven by a need to be loved.
But by a need to maintain my insanity.
This makes little sense I guess.
What do you expect?
I'm just a little wooden puppet.
With no strings,
No puppeteer,
And no hook to hang on.
Even Pinocchio got out from time to time.
But that little ******* wasn't aware of how ******* lucky he really was.