Real Boy

You control me like Geppetto and the boy made of tree. And for that I thank you, now cut these strings please.

I am a real boy now, with emotions and all. 
Just let go of these strings, I don't fear the fall.

And now my conscience is calling, I have no choice but to answer.
 But like you, I can lie now. Without my nose growing bigger. 

"Are you fine?", this voice asked. 
Head in my hands, I laughed. 
"I will never be fine, is being wanted a crime?" 

The voice had then answered, but only I had heard. 
I remember what it said vaguely, word for word. 

"Being wanted is not a crime, it's a crime that brings the wanting.
But what you want is love, and that only brings hauntings." 

The haunting seems worth it, but worthy I am not.
Since you are a real boy now, some puppet will soon take your spot. 

"Love yourself Ian, that's all you can do.
You have to find yourself, before love can find you." 

My conscience left me thinking, something a boy made of wood couldn't do.
Wishing I was made of wood again, but that's one thing I can't undo. 

Moral of the story, you'll never be satisfied.
Second moral of the story, there will always be another guy.

Being a real boy is harder than it seems, but being your puppet was better in my dreams.