The puppets dangle from the strings,
The puppets are here to dance,
Moving to every little movement
The puppeteer decides to make.
The puppeteer swings a thread,
Cuts another, and entwines two in one;
The puppets know not what is next,
For, there are no rules to this game.
They have no senses, but believe they do,
For the puppeteer is a master at this play.
To think with one end and survive with another,
That’s all there is to this silly little game!