On a quiet street in a quiet shop
little marionette sits and she dreams
I want to be a real girl
I want to be without strings

In the quiet heart of a quiet wooden girl
There's an imaginary pulse, but it screams
I am so sick of this world which owns me!
I am so sick of this world…

Marionette, dance for us
Marionette, dance for us
Marionette, dance for us
Dance, dance, dance, dance…