One, Nine, Eight, Four

 

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