Voices come from down the hall

In my room all painted white

I have my bat and rubber ball

I like to sleep with them at night



But now I'm all smiles

The good little shots must be winning

Yes, they crank my dial

My motor is stalled but my wheels are still spinning



Daddy won't discuss me

What a state I must be

Mommy couldn't stand living with a wind-up toy



All my friends live on the floor

Tiny legs and tiny eyes

They're free to crawl under the door

And, and someday soon so will I



But now I'm all smiles

These good little shots must be working

I'm so happy now

Look, my fingers don't shake and my head isn't jerking



Daddy won't discuss me

What a pain I must be

Mommy couldn't stand having such a wound-up boy



Doctors want to check me

Poke me and dissect me

What do they expect?

Feelings from a wound-up toy?

I don't think so

I'm just a wound-up toy

I'm just a wind-up toy



I'm lost in a nightmare

Shiny white halls

Drawing rats on the wall

Solitary confinement

Chained in a cell

Got my own private hell



Preacher crucifies me

Warden wants to fry me

I was never young

Never just a little boy



Daddy won't discuss me

What a pain I must be

Mama couldn't stand having such a wound-up boy

I'm just a wind-up toy

I'm a wind-up toy

I'm just a wind-up toy I'm just a wind-up toy



"Steven..."



"They come here everynight.

I see them. Don't you see them?

Hmm, that's odd, isn't it?

I'm so tired, I'm winding down.

You'll have to go now, it's bedtime!"