Sometimes, I feel like a ghost
Surrounded by people, silently pleading,
"Liberation."
My very movements seem to  s t r e t c h  a c r o s s  t i m e . . . . .
And my voice always  e c h o e s  across      empty      chasms
Nah, I don't really party, I just haunt
I just linger
And no one ever knows
How long I've been there