My Puppeteer

What kind of joke is this
I put down the fix like you said
A rope around the wrist
Was never a part of our deal

If I’m a clown for you
Why all the wax on your lip
I rock around for you
When you so much as kiss the cross bar

My puppeteer
It’s just like the bad old times
You call all tunes, and
I call you all mine

Turns out the torch’s flame
Is nothing but paper mache
But I go on anyway
I want to make a fool of both of us

I want you to lose
I want you to lose control

My puppeteer
It’s just like the bad old times
You call all tunes, and
I call you all mine