PUPPET MY PUPPET
PUPPET, MY PUPPET
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Who carved your eyes
from midnight wood?
Who painted your smile
with trembling hands?
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Why do you sing
when the world grows cruel?
I was made
from broken branches
from old coats
from forgotten rooms
I was stitched together
by lonely people
trying to keep
their hearts alive
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Dance slowly now…
Dance slowly now…
The kings wear masks
The merchants shout
The machines glow
all through the night
But still you carry
that little candle
Still you whisper—
Love is not dead…
Love is not dead…
Who taught the puppet
to speak of mercy?
The wounded did…
The wounded did…
Who taught the puppet
to cry for strangers?
Love did…
Love did…
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Your strings are visible now
Good.
Let everyone see
what moves you.
Not greed.
Not conquest.
Not domination.
Only relation.
Only longing.
Only love
pulling gently
through invisible hands.
And if I must become
a puppet too—
Then let me be moved
by tenderness
Let me bend
toward the suffering
Let me sing
inside the fire
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Take my hand…
The stage is burning—
yes—
But somewhere beyond the smoke
the children are still singing
And the stars—
the stars—
are hanging
like lanterns
above the dark theater
of the world.
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
PUPPET MY PUPPET - Extended Version
PUPPET, MY PUPPET
(Extended Version)
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Who carved your eyes
from midnight wood?
Who painted your smile
with trembling hands?
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Why do you sing
when the world grows cruel?
I was made
from broken branches
from old coats
from forgotten rooms
I was stitched together
by lonely people
trying to keep
their hearts alive
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Dance slowly now…
Dance slowly now…
The kings wear masks
The merchants shout
The machines glow
all through the night
But still you carry
that little candle
Still you whisper—
Love is not dead…
Love is not dead…
Who taught the puppet
to speak of mercy?
The wounded did…
The wounded did…
Who taught the puppet
to cry for strangers?
Love did…
Love did…
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Your strings are visible now
Good.
Let everyone see
what moves you.
Not greed.
Not conquest.
Not domination.
Only relation.
Only longing.
Only love
pulling gently
through invisible hands.
And if I must become
a puppet too—
Then let me be moved
by tenderness
Let me bend
toward the suffering
Let me sing
inside the fire
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Take my hand…
The stage is burning—
yes—
But somewhere beyond the smoke
the children are still singing
And the stars—
the stars—
are hanging
like lanterns
above the dark theater
of the world.
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Who carved the moonlight
into your face?
Love did…
Love did…
Who placed the sorrow
inside your song?
Love did…
Love did…
I have seen puppets
hanging in windows
Dust on their shoulders
Silence in their mouths
Forgotten by children
Forgotten by time
Yet even abandoned things
remember love
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
There are old theaters
beneath the cities
Hidden rooms
where the lonely gather
Women with tired eyes
Men with shaking hands
Children carrying silence
like stones in their pockets
And there—
under dim lights—
the puppets still speak
Softly now…
Softly now…
Not with power
Not with weapons
Only stories
Only trembling songs
trying to keep
the human heart alive
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
The emperors laugh
at the puppet stage
The bankers laugh
The war men laugh
They call tenderness weakness
They call mercy naïve
But secretly—
secretly—
they fear the puppet
Because the puppet
still remembers
what they buried
Love is not dead…
Love is not dead…
Who taught the puppet
to sit beside grief?
The mothers did…
The mothers did…
Who taught the puppet
to wait through sorrow?
The poor did…
The poor did…
Who taught the puppet
to sing in ruins?
Love did…
Love did…
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Tonight the streets
are filled with sirens
Blue lights flicker
against apartment walls
The phones glow endlessly
Faces bend downward
scrolling through catastrophe
But somewhere—
somewhere—
someone is still
making soup
for strangers
Someone is still
holding a frightened hand
Someone is still
singing softly
beside a hospital bed
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Do not tell me
love is weak
I have seen love
survive prisons
I have seen love
cross oceans
I have seen love
carry children
through bombed streets
I have seen love
sit awake for nights
beside the dying
No empire can do this
No machine can do this
Only love…
Only love…
And if the puppet trembles—
good.
Wood can tremble
Cloth can tear
Paint can crack
But love—
love keeps moving
Through generations
Through ruins
Through migrations
Through songs
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Pull the strings gently now…
Not to control—
No—
To awaken
To remember
To call the sleeping heart
back into relation
Back into tenderness
Back into the dangerous work
of loving each other
while the world burns
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
I hear the old choirs coming now
Deep voices rising
through the floorboards
Bass voices
from under the earth
Singing—
Hold on…
Hold on…
Do not surrender
your heart to the machine
Hold on…
Hold on…
The stars are still burning
above the theater roof
And somewhere
beyond the smoke
the children
the children—
are still singing
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!
Puppet…
my puppet…
of love!