happyplace

They call me the Puppeteer...

My fingers are thin and my hands are stained with my tears.

For the puppets I steer with my strings and dreams.

They call me the Puppeteer...
I had no friends, alike you.
For nobody saw the value of my friendship.
But in the end they call became my friends.
With my strings and dreams.
They call me the Puppeteer...
My body dark and my eyes hunger of gold.
In my eyes, No one is alone.
And with my strings and dreams...

You shall be my friend too.