Left up alone in the attic with the crucified picture of Christ
There was blood on his hands and a memory from those he enticed
The wind up ballerina dances to a tune I’ve heard a thousand times
But all I’ve got to keep me sane is her old chimes
Now and then I’ll wind her up again
I’ll push her hair. She likes it when I’m there
My windup toys. Windup toys. Windup Toys
I’ve yet to see a day of sunlight. I guess they don’t want me around
It’s just me and Jesus and a gentle playing sound
Little drumming soldier drumming and a carousel that sings and glows
When I’ll be set free nobody knows
Now and then I’ll wind her up again
I’ll push her hair. She likes it when I’m there
Windup toys. Windup toys. Windup Toys
I’d like to go downstairs, but it seems nobody cares
I’d like to see the blue sky and the clouds that pass on by
I’m trapped within my cell with Jesus here as well
But I hear that wood latch good. If I had a match I would