Puppets

There's something in the corner, it's staring straight at me
It's something I can feel but impossible to see
Just when I hit rock bottom, I keep on falling down
Trapped in the arms of a make believe town

I will not be your puppet, I will not wear this dress
I will not be all the things you try and try to stress.
I'd rather go on dying than head straight back to you
Your not worth all this crying, if I could tell the truth

When life inside a toybox turns into your grave,
some memories of dying you begin to crave
The pain of being ripped apart and losing all your strings
Your last thoughts, your dying wish and all those kind of things