Dance, Puppets, Dance!
You think that you think, but you drink misdirection
You blink on the brink, and you move with perfection
Each subtle suggestion, a lasting impression
Another recruit as you make this concession
This comatose crusade by your militant ignorance
Was not ever yours. Yet, you volunteered to dance.
Behind self-righteous aggression lies a vacant expression
A cavernous void is your greatest transgression
So Dance, Puppets, Dance
The strings to your arms, though hard to forget
It’s the strings to your mind you should really regret
For absence of mind makes the best marionette

~j.d. schofield