There're numbers there, on an internal door
The familiar, one and nine and eight and four
They're black on grey, they're a yester-date
On the one way entrance, to the Stasi State
Authorities watch from there, they don't deny it
Although they will interfere, to keep you quiet
And so for collective cohesion; and your health
They will want your opinions, kept to yourself
What you need to know, they'll show, on MSM
Sanitised half truths, too unworthy to condemn
And without just cause, from then, forthwith
Your freedom, of thought, evanesces to a myth
They know you better, than you know, you
Knowing every old post and every new view
For you're their problem, you and your kind
By refusing to assimilate, to their hive mind
It's their cause and effect, it's you in the frame
Actions have a reaction, the victim's to blame
It's a cynical lure, when they weaponise speech
Don't do as they do, you've to do as they preach
You're a minute away, from a knock at the door
It'll be a PC Droid, model: one, nine, eight, four
It's duty will be unwavering, but as fickle as fate
When it's following the orders, of the Stasi State
