Dancer, dancer, on a string,
watch her move and hear her sing,
frown-masked smirks all around,
making her cry, making her frown,
but she gives them everything,
more than they deserve,
for she cares far too much,
to just let them burn.

Dancer, dancer, spinning fast,
there's no knowing how long she'll last,
performing for others who do not care,
she might even fall down the stairs,
of pressure and of people broken,
weighing down with lack of thankful token.

Someone runs in to cut the strings,
but they're made of wire, dastardly things,
so grabbing on and holding strong,
they help her move herself along,
to free feelings, free thoughts;
A free life with wide leaps in open fields.