[Intro — Delicate music box, faint ticking] (Soft, childlike singing) Mother taught me how to sew, To pull the needle through. One little stitch to hold it shut, And one to hide the truth. (Music box slows) Round and round the handle goes, Be careful where you tread. Mother says don't open it... (Whispered) "Not until it's fed." [Verse 1] Mother said the toys don't talk. Who put the key inside my hand? Its little hands were stitched in place. I heard it laughing through the walls. Mother swore there was no key. There's something scratching at the seam. The box was shut. The song went on. I asked her why the music played, She smiled and told me not to stay. But when I turned to walk away, I heard my voice inside it say... [Pre-Chorus] The music stopped. The singing didn't. "I heard my voice before I spoke. [Chorus] Pop! Goes the weasel, Round and round we go. Mother taught me how to sew, But not what lies below. One stitch, two stitch, Pull the thread so tight. Three stitch, four stitch, Something isn't right. Pop! Goes the weasel, The music starts again. But if nobody's turning it, Who's been winding it since ten? [Verse 2] One for the needle Two for the thread, Three for the thing underneath my bed "Round and round the handle goes, But nobody turned the key Four for the footsteps that sound just like mine. Five for the reflection that moves out of time. I don't remember falling asleep. Six for the fingers that bend on their own, Seven for the voice that says, "You're not alone." Eight for the secrets beneath painted skin, Nine for the key that was never put in. [Pre-Chorus] One little turn, one little click, My fingers move without my wish. [Chorus] Pop! Goes the weasel, Round and round we go. Mother taught me how to sew, But not what lies below. One stitch, two stitch, Pull the thread so tight. Three stitch, four stitch, Something isn't right. Pop! Goes the weasel, The music starts again. But if nobody's turning it, Who's been winding it since ten? [Breakdown] "Mother... what did you feed it?" (A gentle, familiar voice) "Shhh, sweetheart. It's listening." (The music box begins winding faster.) "Pop goes the—" (A second voice interrupts, suddenly sharp.) "No. Not yet." (Everything stops. Complete silence.) (Barely audible whisper) "You're still inside." (One final mechanical click, followed by the opening notes of the final chorus.) One stitch, two stitch, Mother holds me tight. Three stitch, four stitch, She says I'll be alright. Pop! Goes the weasel, The music starts again. Mother says I'm safe in here, So why won't she let me in? (A second voice whispers) "You're already in." (The melody begins distorting.) But if I'm safe inside her box, Why won't she let me see the light? [Post-Chorus] "That's one stitch." (Click.) (Click.) "That's two." (Click.) "Do you remember who made you?" (A frightened whisper) "Mother...?" (Gentle, almost affectionate) "That's right, sweetheart." (The music box starts winding.) "Pop goes the—" (Mother interrupts) "No, sweetheart." "You don't get to come out yet." (Silence.) [Outro] Mother, why'd you sew my eyes? Mother, why can't I go outside? (The music box slows, each note becoming further apart.) (Mother, softly singing) One little stitch to hold you tight, One little song to say goodnight. (A tiny voice from inside the box) "Mother...?" (Whispered) "Am I ever coming out?" (A long pause.) (Mother, almost smiling) "When the song is finished, sweetheart." (The music box plays the first few notes of "Pop Goes the Weasel"... then stops just before the final note.) (Click.)
