Death Of The Puppeteer
Liberation laced with self doubt now that the puppet master is dead
Wondering if any of my words have been mine? Or if it was him acting instead
A budding crisis surges since everything I had believed’s gone
Can I even move forward without the helping hand to lean on?
I no longer know if I can stand, or if I can carry on my bland existence
Glen Danzig, I made a career outta leading a band of misfits
Wandering the streets where courage is found by the ounce
Misery loves company, I’m palling ‘round with the alleyway’s Grouch
Seeking a tiny bit of understanding but haven’t found an amount
Hanging with the liars and the vampires, guess I’m down for the Count
Searching for sweet validation, that I’ve had no luck findin’
Crossed paths with the Dark Crystal and those strung up by it
Dwelling in savage lands the type you’d meet an Animal at
Heart playing leapfrog every time there’s a panic attack
Like man just relax...I’ve got nothing but sadness and tears
‘Course my sanity veered been walkin circles in a Labyrinth for years
I came to be in stitches, but there’s just no laughin this off
Every path that I walk, is lined with jagged fragments of rocks
I’ve left behind the sunny days, I guess I’ll just let it be
Can’t stand the sight of all this concrete stained with memories, took a left off Sesame
Spent three decades in this emptiness, though it feels like yesterday
Think I’m starting to see the light...Gus Fring told me there’s a better way...
That there is...
I walk on the stage and hear the yells from out the crowd
A smile fixed to my face, it’s time to clear these melancholic clouds
I can finally see the sunshine, tried to force it my best to heal
But now I’m letting it all go, this must be how acceptance feels
“The strings that once pulled me every which way are gone
So now what the fuck am I supposed to do?”
Cocking the pistol back I shave it in my mouth
CLICK, BOOM
Stuffing descends like wounded butterflies fluttering all around the room
The stunned children watch in silence, all you hear is stomach’s churning and shock
Once an icon, now a distant memory, rest in power, Kermit the Frog