Hung on thin strings for Their whole lives.
Moved with someone else's move, for the little ones to enjoy.
That's how We dance and sing, as they want Us to.
Although we know children best, We're not childish anymore.
People say, that We have no souls. People say, that We do not know of tears. Wooden dolls can't be touched by anything.... A doll has no heart, but is that the truth?
Hung on thin strings for Their whole lives.
Moved with someone else's move, for the little ones to enjoy.
Everything of wood - so a wooden life...
Still uncertain, thy lot in life.
And this poem you hear right now, weeps somewhere in a marionette's wooden soul.
People say, that We have no souls. People say, that We do not know of tears. Wooden dolls can't be touched by anything.... A doll has no heart, but is that the truth?
People say - "they do not know sensitivity". People say - "dolls do not love"
"They are wooden, how can they know love?"
That's what the people say....
....But are they truly right?
