I'm hung on the same shelf
Night after night, that shelf
That old, dusty shelf
My strings bundled up
So I can't leave this retched place
But in the morning you come for me
Untie my strings, and drag me away
The floor is cold under my feet
The lights burn my eyes
The cheering crowds hurt my ears
Then...the curtains open
And so the show begins
Master pulls my strings
I jump, dance, wave, kick myself and fall
But does anyone hear my cries for help?
They can't over their laughter
The humility is hurtful
The strings agonizingly painful
At war with the puppet master
But once again have failed
The curtains close
And I'm back on that old, dusty shelf