Strings, strings,
what horrid things.
Set the bait to manipulate.
You took the bait,
nothing second rate.
Top of the line
for your unwise mind.
Strings, strings,
what horrid things.
Yank on one string-make the puppet dance,
yank on the other-make you wave goodbye
to your innocence.
Strings, strings
what horrid things.
Spun like a web, with skill and ill will.
Say goodbye little fly.
Then times will get tough
and it won’t be enough
she’ll want to cash in the “you owe me”
It’s not really a gift like you thought it would be.
