Time won’t be wasted, just a look of disgust
Is all they allow to those rags covered with dust.
Pace then gets quicker and eyes look away
But she is still there, yet another shadow of grey.
Her strings are down and she cannot stand,
So she keeps staring at the sky, looking for his hand.
Eyes wide open despite the rain:
She does believe she’ll be with him again.
A figure approaches and stops somewhat near,
His face all helpless pain, regret and fear.
Heart might be aching with tears she won’t shed
But mind is slowly fading, and senses are thus dead.
So when I pick her up and look into her eyes
I can now only see sorrow and a will full of goodbyes.
In the middle of rain, there’s a painful cry I can hear
And suddenly I realize twilight has also come
To Mr. Puppeteer.
