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