On the Thames

In a building, where books go up in flames

With captive, candid cameras

And sexual paraphernalias

Perverted, putrid paterfamilias

And in a sterile white, black and filthy room with no names

 

One different thinker

One nosy neighbor

One voluptuous rebel

(They all go in a cell)

Two gathering intel

And of course, Big Brother

 

Wars are perpetual

Trust nothing textual

These soldiers are like bees

No more Achilles

Real heroes are pushed to their knees

Told to believe lies, and skeletal

 

They all are broken

Oldspeak is not spoken

Two plus two is five

How can science survive

No one is alive

Humanity is choken