A Master puppeteer embraces his conception; An awkward Marionette rests by the lanterns Uncouthly it stands, but by it's Master's hand Marionette's movement's slow, but it starts to mouth words "Master, why was I conceived? What purpose have you in mind? Will I become a symbol of all you will admire?" Well, Master's age-worn face develops a frowning crease "You are a catalyst that manifests my undying needs." The Marionette waits patiently to see untethered eyes But Master pulls his dirty strings, so together in dreams they lie Awake, ashamed So Master wipes his brow, another day ill-spent He grabs on clumsy strings and proceeds to circumvent On unforgiving days, Marionette lives in shame Through all his efforts, Master keeps alive in vain "Oh, this crooked boutique can hold its share of guilt; I've spent nights pondering on what rests past the windowsill." Master's ears burn and cringe, those comments, the last tinge He raises his brass voice and goes on a frenetic binge The Marionette waits patiently to see untethered eyes But Master pulls his dirty strings, so together in dreams they lie "You've cast another dream, now other than your own, into the passing sea; Now relish in this thought, of a uniformed ensemble that's drifting peacefully." Awake, ashamed Morning breaks with a bitter sun, Master walks in with a chromatic gun He sets it down on the cabinet Now he paces to the window and back; he pulls upon the strings like a heart attack And with gruesome force he puts on a show The Marionette mimics: the pain and the kills; the Marionette glances at the windowsill And lashes at it's Master's palms The two brawl, blood sheds like splinters; the chromatic gun acts as a transistor And knocks Master down to the ground Marionette heads for the window; "Embrace a life without the swindles" Master watches like a slit in his throat The Marionette waits patiently to see untethered eyes But Master pulls his dirty strings, so together in dreams they lie
Awake, ashamed
Awake, ashamed
No comments:
Post a Comment