People dancing on puppet strings It amazes me that they are not aware Of who pulls the strings, or even that There are strings. People being forced into some macabre dance Twisted dance, full of hate, empty of love No action is their own, but they know it not Only a select few are aware Those who pull the strings And a few others, those Who are intelligent enough to See the strings, and escape the shackles Men in black suits walk into the room Never smiling, knowing they have a job They resume the puppet strings that Those before them have left, and Continue in the endless dance Each individual attached by an Almost invisible string To the most omnipotent force known to man: Power.