Death of the Puppet

Dark figures dance in the scene

Silhouettes unite

Shadow play

The red curtain falls. The drama ends

Actors leave the stage

But I stay

I could fly through the spring

Like a mighty raven on black wings

I could live, like a king

But I\'m just a puppet with chopped strings

Rust in my hinge. Wood decayed

Clothes are full of dirt. Broken clay

The smile on my face is just a stain

Play with me now, please. I\'m in pain

I could shine in the night

Like distant stars of galaxies

I could conquer the heights

But I\'m just a puppet with chopped strings

I could hum in the fields

Like a yellow bee with a pointed sting

I could dive, like a fish

But I\'m just a puppet with chopped strings