The elders spoke against the box
Covered with the cloth
That painted pictures on the glass
And they wanted not
Their picture taken, for they wished
Yo keep for themselves whole
For a man looses a little each time
When his picture is taken, it takes his soul.
--oOo--
--oOo--
These times of the spirit are empty
Of hope we have little too
Faith has faded in freedom
And those who believe are now few
Little care for their fellow man
None lives to his need
All want at the expense of each other
All that powers us is greed.
--oOo--
Every place we are
Everywhere we walk
Someone somewhere sees
When on our phones we talk
An image is recorded
We are not aware, yet we know
60 pictures a second
Taken on video...
--oOo--
Maybe the Red Man was right
Our loss of our soul seems to stem
With the more images of us thats taken
For the sadisfaction of Them
Who worry about security and freedom
Who want to monitor and tag us where we go
It for our own good they tell us
That we have even less freedom we know...
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