The PUPPET Has Cut His Strings - Elvis Costello, The Roots

They pulled the stars down one by one

Hauled up the moon to shine upon

A velvet curtain rising

Now her puppet has cut his strings

The footlights glare

The trumpets blare

Why is your face drawn on so glum, old chum

Paintbrush dragging on a drum

The rim shot on the punch line that you fumbled

The crowd went home and left you

For dead

My old wooden head

Took the thimble and the thread

Choked back tears like a cymbal

The breath is slow and shallow too

The sky is bright Venetian blue

The cardboard sun is all ablaze

The air is painted Clifford Brown

Caressing «Yesterdays»

The steady gaze of your glass eye

Head in a basket smiling still

Free of will, free of wisdom

Can’t feel my fingers anymore

Can’t raise my hand and ask for more

Dance my doll across the floor

Or fire a flag from a pistol

(«Bang»)

They pulled the stars down one by one

Hauled up the moon to wish upon

The puppet finally cut his strings

And free at last from earthly things

He’s dancing on the ceiling

With a showgirl in a feather dress

Time is meaningless

We carried you on buckled limbs

Through mournful airs and martyrs hymns

Then one blue and one more yellow pill

One keeps you quiet

One keeps you still

You sang «The Way You Looked Tonight»

Your voice is ringing true and clear

Then you wore them down like candlelight

And in the darkness

You’d best beware

And in the darkness

You’d best beware

You’d best beware

You’d best beware

I used to love him

When I used to care

Canopy

Satin trim

Slowly closing

The puppet has cut his strings