• The dancing marionette
    knows no freedom from the strings
    His life is but a monologue
    of many simple things

    He cannot sit and whisper
    his dismay to tender ears
    He has no words to say
    though he has seen so many years

    He dances for the crowds
    how they laugh and laugh with joy
    He cannot feel the happiness
    for he is but a toy

    His tears are made from laquer
    that shines upon his eyes
    His sadness is in silence
    no one hears his cries

    He sits upon a shelf
    with dolls and mirrors at his sides
    People point and laugh
    and he has nowhere left to hide

    "His greatest word, that devil"
    they say with horrid glee
    But he is just a puppet
    he can't say "don't look at me!"