False advertising

On a string i was held. the way that i move, can you tell?
my actions are orchestrated from above. so i swing and i sway.
wave my hand. kick my leg. and it is always right with the music.
"until all that swinging starts to make you sick"
for a song i was bought. now i lie when i talk with a careful eye on the cue card.
onto a stage, i was pushed with my sorrow well rehearsed.
so give me all your pity and your money. now.
"we used to think that sound was something pure"
if i could act like this was my real life and not some cage where i've been placed,
then, i could tell you the truth like i used to and not be afraid of sounding fake.
now all that anyone is listening for are the mistakes.
in a house, by myself, i hear the ice start to melt and watch rooftops weep for the sunlight.
and i know what must change. f*** my face. f*** my name.
they are brief and false advertisements for a soul i don't have.
something true i have lacked and spent my whole life trying to make up for.
but i found in a song and in the people i love. they will lift me up out of darkness.
now my door stands open. i am inviting everyone in. we will drink.
we will laugh until the morning comes. that is what we are going to do.