The string to his head The boss makes it nod The string to his mouth His mum pulls for food The string to his soul It leads up to God But who controls The string to his cock?
In the bleak midwinter At the bottom of the stair I'll set myself on fire Pour petrol in my hair If he would ever notice If he could ever care I'm just so bored with Pierrot Lunaire
Football on a Sunday Drinks after work Tuesday a DJ Friday a jerk And what really matters And who really cares My lover's a puppet Pierrot Lunaire
In the bleak midwinter At the bottom of the stair I'll set myself on fire Pour petrol in my hair If he would ever notice If he could even care I'm just so bored with Pierrot Lunaire
Others have boyfriends Boyfriends who care Of flesh and blood Not string and air They lay them on beds They whisper 'je t'aime' They take off their clothes And make love to them One day I'll cut my arms off And send them to him I'll sever my legs Suspend them from strings I'll be Polcinella We'll hang out so close My wooden cheek To his wooden nose
In the bleak midwinter At the bottom of the stair I'll set myself on fire Pour petrol in my hair As if you'd even notice As if you'd ever care I'm so in love Pierrot Lunaire
Lysergic Lysander Nodding his head A glittery panda That needs to be fed A Cantonese opera Performed at the zoo These foolish things Remind me of you
And the puppet girls kiss you Up there on the moon They must know I miss you Please come back soon In the bleak midwinter At the bottom of the stair I'm on fire Pierrot Lunaire
In the bleak midwinter At the bottom of the stair I'll set myself on fire Pour petrol in my hair If you could ever notice If you would ever care I'm so in love with Pierrot Lunaire
I know you can't cry so don't even try When you've cried as much as me, the tears roll by The years rain down, the tears don't dry They dangle from your chin like a memory I passed you on the stair, you're like, I swear 'Who's been sleeping in baby bear's lair? How's Cruel Frederick, is anybody there? The Nosferatu puppet with corkscrew hair? The nest of baby spiders underneath the chair? All the survivors of the massacre All the little friends of Henry Darger Living large but dreaming larger Patience is a virtue and virtue is a grace And Grace is a little girl who slaps your face I know you can't cry so don't even try When you've cried as much as me, the tears roll by The years rain down, the tears don't dry They dangle from your chin like a memory All the little tears going down the drain Pierrot Lunaire, here we go again