Puppets we are, being strung along
By the unseen forces of nature
Beyond our mortal control
With a desire to remain forever young
Yet against our will, we continue to grow old

The strings get cut yet the nerves still twitch
Perhaps to return somewhere our souls itch
Lost in this bottomless pit of dream
And blinded by all these things

If the puppet master were I
I wouldn’t allow anybody to die
Even if you told a thousand lies

And at least you'd know
The true face of your maker
And if somebody broke I’d be the breaker
Yet I wouldn’t be offended by the foresaker

But I’m only a puppet to blind to tell
Isn’t that the real hell?