Your belief is a commodity
A product to be bought and sold
Your faith, a liability
To make you easier to control
Your convictions manipulated
Your intuitions are not your own
You’re just a number inside a boardroom
A statistic, a faceless clone
CH
We let you think you’re in control
We own you right down to your soul
Your opinions are ours to shape
Like a sculptor molding clay
Your Information is ours to take
Your confidence, ours to betray
Your consent, utterly meaningless
A concept from distant days
Your privacy, completely trivial
A fairy tale whose value has decayed
CH
We let you think you’re in control
We own you right down to your soul
Your belief is nothing purposeful
Your very essence is pre-ordained
Your behavior, fully predictable
An algorithm, a link in the chain
Your fear is like our gasoline
Your information, our nourishment
Uncontained and uncontrollable
An assassin of your dissent
CH
We let you think you’re in control
We own you right down to your soul
