False Advertising

On a string, on a string, on a string, I was held, the way I move, can you tell? My actions are orchestrated from above. So I swing and I sway, wave my hand, kick my leg, and it's always right with the music.
Till all that swaying starts to make you sick.

For a song I was bought, now I lie when I talk with a careful eye on the cue cards. Onto a stage I was pushed with my sorrow well rehearsed. So give me all your pity and your money now, all of it.

We used to think that sound was something pure.

But if I could act like this was my real life, and not some cage where I've been placed. Then I could tell you the truth like I used to, and not be afraid of sounding fake. Now all anyone's listening for are the mistakes.

In a house, by myself, I hear the ice start to melt and I'll watch the rooftops weep for the sunlight. And I know what must change, fuck my face, fuck my name. They are brief and false advertisements. For a soul I don't have, something true I have lacked and spent my whole life trying to make up for. But I found in a song and in the people I love, they will lift me up out of darkness. And now my door, it stands open, I'm inviting everyone in, we're gonna laugh, we're gonna drink until the morning comes.

That's what we're gonna do. Come on, come on!