are you going to a private party
remain unseen and catch a watchful eye,
see the etiquette, baby, is watch what you say,
yeah if somebody's listening, hey, well it's not me.
while written up across the overpass
there's some uncoordinated mass abstention
that gets no attention. what nobody mentions
says nothing to me about my disaffection.
while all the creeping advertisers take everything you say and do,
bundle it up, and then they're selling it back to you.
try not to discount the full force of the rhythm.
a suspicious glance, and you find yourself in it.
in panoptic vision, you get what you're giving.
the cop in your head rules an infinite prison.
and the joke's on you if you've been living with it.
i-i-i'm losing patience. i-i'm getting sick.
and the trick of paralysis is you never loosen your grip.
while all the creeping social climbers try all of this year's nom de plumes,
all while the cop in your head is coming up with one for you too.