Written by James Record in 2015.
A giant hand holds your puppet limbs by wire,
Twisting and conforming your every move.
A ventriloquist dictates your speech;
Your mouth moves, but the words are not your own.
A guide takes you along the trail,
No questions are asked about what fate may bring,
If one were to disobey and look over the precipice.
Maybe you might see yourself in the reflection,
Of the misty pools at the foot of the cliffs.
Perhaps, he’s waiting for you;
And you’ll forever be afraid of what might happen,
If you take a chance.
Driven back from the edge,
Forced to resume your life,
Where all your choices will forever be guided by safety.
The worse that will happen,
Is you’ll fall into the deep black ocean with me;
But at least if you make a mistake,
You will not be alone.