(A spin-off from The Prisoner)
I was treated like a puppet more often than a prisoner,
Puppet of a machiavellian sitting on a throne of sand;
The world was never a stage, but a cage coated in silver.
I wanted to run away but when I do, my legs then lumber;
Thick heavy chains pull me down everytime I try to stand,
I was treated like a puppet more often than a prisoner.
My master watched me shed tears in so much anger,
It told me to quiet, and so the show will not be panned;
The world was never a stage, but a cage coated in silver.
From time to time, I was pulled inside a room of laughter,
But alas, I only heard loud whispers of the devils all grand;
I was treated like a puppet more often than a prisoner.
Strings on my skin, I suppressed shivers in my shoulder,
My master's dead eyes above reflected, pity was banned;
The world was never a stage, but a cage coated in silver.
She smiled and so did I; Then I cried and so did she after,
But empty dolls like me are for their master to command;
I was treated like a puppet more often than a prisoner;
The world was never a stage, but a cage coated in silver.