Wood if he could
Pinocchio don’t want
to be no real boy no more
Too many strings attached
He can’t do this or that
Tic Tac Toe
Everybody telling him
what to do, where to go
He can’t go with no flow
No more wild oats to sew.
He’d rather be
that puppet without strings
Drinking with his buddies
Listen to them sing
Liar liar, pants on FIRE!
So what if there’s some burnt wood?
Things they be fun in the hood
Only real boys gotta be good.
Jiminy Cricket
He miss that little fellow
Conduit of conscience caution
Kinda entertaining, sorta?
To bad he wasn’t more mellow
He heard Jiminy fell on soft times,
tripped head first into a bowl of jello
Ironically it was lime green
He got chomped
Curtain call! Jiminy’ final scene.
Pinocchio’s mad
You see
real boys they gotta grow up
Lessons need learning
Fun? Hell no, something will always interrupt
Eyes forward
Become the teachers pet
The best it ain’t happened yet
Some decisions magical boys regret
He learns the lessons
Grows up, shuts up
Becomes the thing he once was
Just another puppet
But this time
somebody else pulls the strings.
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