When I no longer felt the need to live they told me there was a way;
they would cut up my body, sale all the pieces, and that way, I could stay..

They stuck me inside a crane machine,
my arms, my legs, my heart.
Fifty cents was all it took to win yourself a part.

My head it was the first to go, it went to a strange old man.
Who lived down in a basement, and had a secret plan.

My fingers they went next, to some little girls and boys.
The size of them was perfect for the children to use as toys.

The piece of me that went last, was the piece that belonged to you,
and when you walked by the crane machine you knew just what to do.

You put in your two quarters and you grasped the handle tight.
The claw wrapped gently around my heart and didn't give a fight.

You walked to your car, whistling, with my heart held in your hand.
Completely content, my soul was free, because you were my final plan.