He holds the strings to my every move
Makes have to win, never lose
Those blue ribbons up on my wall,
Weren't worth the work, or the fall
The trophies lined up in a row
Weren't worth the mental blows
The 144 gold medals hanging still
Weren't worth the adrenaline, or thrill
Because he's the puppet master,
He's holding  all of my strings
Gotta win it, be number one
Anything less than the best and I'm shunned