stevescottcreative

The Puppet Master has called us down To sit with him at his table. A how'd you do is said, and as directed We sit down and stare ahead. The Puppet Master asks if we want gravy. We nod, strings pulled. The Puppet Master Bids us take the boat from him And strings through flesh do pull once more. With tight-held fork we move the food And directed teeth do chew. The strings are tight, and he's the one To control what we may do. And through it all, our every action his. With biting wiring affixed to flesh, Our very bodies now automatons And our thoughts are made redundant.