We are two beings, each of us
An outside and an in;
The puppet we proudly show the world
And the Master who pulls the strings.
But the Puppet Master, clever man
Conceals so all shan’t see
Hides a truth of sadness or pain
With a face of sun and glee.
For when we’re down he pulls a string
Inside he hangs his head.
Fools them all with a dance of joy
When all that’s true is dread.
He lives there, deep inside at work
Sure they won’t see a trace.
For every time we doubt our dread
He pulls his strings with grace.