| Cheer, the sad puppeteer
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| Who constantly tugs as he snickers and sneers
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| Frantically wiping his tears
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| I’m always dancing in tandem, with his teardrops so pained
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| To the weeping; |
| I shamefully lend out my frame
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| Contortedly pulled to the center of stage
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| A re-enactment of his tragedy, again and again
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| Some abstracted form of attraction, over and over, again!
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| Marionette, I play my part!
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| The crowd have all gone, but the show must go on
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| I play my part!
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| Dance to the beat of his tears
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| His story had chilled me, haunting my guilty ways
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| He wept for days over a picture frame
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| Scrawling to pages his play
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| A marionette, I play my part!
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| The crowd have all gone, but the show must go on
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| I play my part!
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| Dance to the beat of his tears
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| I watched his comfort turn to pain
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| As he scowled his reflection
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| How long had he been locked away?
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| Had it turned him insane?
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| «Shatter the frame
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| It mirrors my pain, it’s not me it’s not me, I say»!
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| A reflection of age
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| «Watch me shatter and break»
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| «This world was never meant for me
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| Keep me, locked away
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| (Keep me locked away)
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| This world was never meant for me
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| (Was not made for me)
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| The show must go, on»
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| The sad puppeteer he will stay |