On a quiet street in a quiet shop A little marionette sits and she dreams I want to be a real girl I want to be without strings
In the quiet heart of a quiet wooden girl There's an imaginary pulse, but it screams I am so sick of this world which owns me! I am so sick of this world…
Marionette, dance for us Marionette, dance for us Marionette, dance for us Dance, dance, dance, dance…