This is the operation they perform In one smooth move, they hide control from around you In a similar, consequent move they place that same control inside you No anaesthesia Apart from an illusion of freedom, side effects are minimal It may tingle a bit Also, you no longer hear what is rolling from the east The sharp rip followed by a muffled roar, carries a cry of loss In one whopping bang, they lose everything The soil beneath their feet, the souls they had Only ghosts sing with the voices of those stolen by the bullet rains Things from them look different Mr. Erickson once said: "If you have ghosts, you have everything." However, their ghosts, they are different from those dressed in white sheets The ghosts here, they make the masses move, tear worlds apart And they stay - posted on the walls, scattered in the wind, blended into crowdsm and spun deep into minds Things, for us too, could develop into something entirely different