The puppeteers believe they're kings
and sneer with every glance
for when they twang discordant strings
the whiny weaklings dance
they set the stage so every show
will profit them alone
employing props that never know
their lives are not their own
refuse to bow before these fools
release yourselves my friends
redeem your souls, you are not tools
it's time this madness ends!
Are You Reading Me?
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