Jars Of Clay

The marionetter has your number
Pulling your arms and legs till you can't stand on your own
Dragging your conscience on the stage
and your heart gets rearranged
and you cannot tell your mentor from your Maker
Look at the crowds bleeding with laughter
Over the way you entertain at beckon call
They don't see behind the lights, or the painted backgrounds
They just like to see you fall
But you don't really mind
Cause you're just wasting time
You can't feel anything
You're a boy on a string