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 "They come here every night 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!" "Steven..."