Puppets
i see a maddened master living for some vicious fun,
cutting out his dead-wood with a fire-storm he's begun -
to burn out fields and farmers and their daughters and their sons:
"who will tend our crops and cattle, once the reaper comes?"
most of what we live and dream is rent before our eyes
as the strings that bind and taunt us rip us up and down to size.
how can it be that puppet masters count us, every one?
by a number, mark or ID card - sold as "freedom just begun"...
answer! give me an answer! why this happened without a fight -
that we let these twisted people take our freedom, overnight!
why should we care, why should we know, it's all to save our lives:
so god gave us intelligence - and a will that never tries.
so the puppet masters whip us into thinking we're attacked
by this terror-frenzied feeding - without god to answer back.
the way we dance and prance they think we're thieves liars fools and whores
the laughing wheezing dancing and the twinkle in their eye
is because they love the pain they cause
in the name of you and i
but behind the pain harsh callous acts words here's the saddest thing -
the puppet-masters' laughter wears some evil puppet string...
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