Made robots by masters with criminal ploys.
Catch Phrase conversations flow through puppetted tongues.
Strings control handshakes and careless nods, but not love.
Without their scripted day, they know not how to lead, only follow.
Speaking no further than typed play-by-plays, hearts seem hollow.
All these handsome girls and beautiful boys, blinded by string.
Let them sing!
Take your knife to their thread.
Let them tread.
They wont sink.
Reality ain't wooden, don't let your high help noses grow long,
I've been belting through the minutes; sing a song! Sing a song!
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