[Intro] [spoken male voice] Look up. You ever notice the strings? No? That's usually how it works. [staccato cello and violin ostinato enters] [Verse 1] [male rap vocals] Kid in the classroom drawing dreams in his notebook Teacher says success got a standardized handbook Follow every checkbox, color inside lines Trade imagination for a clock punch time Dad worked forty years underneath fluorescent light Every promotion came with less sleep at night String on his paycheck, string on his back String on the promises he ain't collected yet Morning news talking from a polished little stage Selling fear and outrage wrapped inside a smiling face Different actor speaking but the script sounds the same Different logos on the screen, same game People keep dancing when the music says move Never asking who composed it or who's calling the cues Everybody swears they're making choices on their own Till the strings start pulling and the pattern gets exposed [Chorus] [male rap vocals with female vocal harmonies, heavy reverb] Puppet strings dangling from the sky Everybody's searching for the reason why Puppet strings tangled in the wire Keeping old machines alive a little higher Some are made of gold, some are made of debt and growing old Puppet strings, maybe that's the cost Trying to stay standing when the map gets lost [Verse 2] [male rap vocals] Girl on her phone scrolling ten hours deep Algorithms deciding what she's allowed to see Every little click becomes another thread Tied around opinions forming inside her head Politician waving while they're promising reform Meanwhile lobby money keeps the engine running warm String on legislation, string on campaign funds Funny how the winners always seem to be the ones Factory closed down on the edge of town Main Street boarded up while stock prices climb CEO gets bonuses, workers get goodbye Everybody asks how, nobody asks why Strings in the market, strings in the feed Strings attached to manufactured wants and needs You can call it freedom, you can call it choice But somebody profits every time you use your voice [Bridge] [music softens, strings sustain] [spoken male voice] Maybe there isn't one puppet master. Maybe it's millions of hands, pulling different directions. Money pulling one way, fear pulling another. Comfort, habit, survival. And after a while, the strings start pulling themselves. [drum fill] [Chorus] [full arrangement, energetic delivery] Puppet strings dangling from the sky Everybody's searching for the reason why Puppet strings tangled in the wire Keeping old machines alive a little higher Some are made of gold, some are made of debt and growing old Puppet strings, maybe that's the cost Trying to stay standing when the map gets lost [Outro] [strings fade out] [spoken male voice] The trick was never seeing the strings. The trick was believing they weren't attached to you.
