I’m a real boy,I’m a real boy,The wooden puppet Pinocchio cried,As he danced on his strings,A jig of denial to all that made senseAnd aspired to what would never become,For if it were trueAnd we could be anything we wanted to be,He’d have donned flesh and bloodSo to set himself free. But whatever you’re told,Whatever … Continue reading I’m A Real Boy.