On a string I was held. The way that I move, can you tell?
My actions are orchestrated from above. So I swing and I
sway.

Wave my hand. Kick my leg. And it is always right with the
music.
"Until all that swinging starts to make you sick"

For a song I was bought. Now I lie when I talk with a careful
eye on the cue card.
Onto a stage, I was pushed with my sorrow well rehearsed.

So give me all your pity and your money. Now.
"We used to think that sound was something pure"
If I could act like this was my real life and not some cage

where I've been placed,
then, I could tell you the truth like I used to and not be
afraid of sounding fake.

Now all that anyone is listening for are the mistakes.
In a house, by myself, I hear the ice start to melt and watch
rooftops weep for the sunlight.

And I know what must change. $#&@ my face. $#&@ my name.
They are brief and false adverti!@&(ts for a soul I don't
have.

Something true I have lacked and spent my whole life trying to
make up for.
But I found in a song and in the people I love. They will lift

me up out of darkness.
Now my door stands open. I am inviting everyone in. We will
drink.

We will laugh until the morning comes. That is what we are going
to d