They pulled the stars down one by one
|
Hauled up the moon to shine upon
|
A velvet curtain rising
|
Now her puppet has cut his strings
|
|
The footlights glare
|
The trumpets blare
|
Why is your face drawn on so glum, old chum
|
Paintbrush dragging on a drum
|
The rimshot on the punchline that you fumbled
|
The crowd went home and left you
|
For dead
|
My old woodenhead
|
Took the thimble and the thread
|
Choked back tears like a cymbal
|
|
The breath is slow and shallow too
|
The sky is bright Venetian blue
|
The cardboard sun is all ablaze
|
The air is painted Clifford Brown
|
Caressing "Yesterdays"
|
The steady gaze of your glass eye
|
Head in a basket smiling still
|
Free of will, free of wisdom
|
|
Can't feel my fingers anymore
|
Can't raise my hand and ask for more
|
Dance my doll across the floor
|
Or fire a flag from a pistol
|
("Bang")
|
|
They pulled the stars down one by one
|
Hauled up the moon to wish upon
|
The puppet finally cut his strings
|
And free at last from earthly things
|
He's dancing on the ceiling
|
With a showgirl in a feather dress
|
Time is meaningless
|
|
We carried you on buckled limbs
|
Through mournful airs and martyrs hymns
|
Then one blue and one more yellow pill
|
One keeps you quiet
|
One keeps you still
|
You sang "The Way You Looked Tonight"
|
Your voice is ringing true and clear
|
Then you wore them down like candlelight
|
|
And in the darkness
|
You'd best beware
|
And in the darkness
|
You'd best beware
|
You'd best beware
|
You'd best beware
|
I used to love him
|
When I used to care
|
Canopy
|
Satin trim
|
Slowly closing
|
The puppet has cut his strings
|
|
-----------------
|
The Puppet Has Cut His Strings
|
| Elvis Costello |
