An idea dies, in the same slight way, that we lose track of the
Facts. slowly, unseen, slipping silently, through some
Fabricated cracks. and now the freedom of the press, has turned
To freedom to impress. perfect hair, sells product well, like
Suffocating, sickly smells, the make-up smears, like false
Pastels, like glossy, sugarcoated, shells.

Tune in, tune out, goodbye, goodnight. they're buying you with
Fear and lies. turn it off until it's right, that's the news,
That's all, goodnight.

The advertising dollars buy, the right to stifle antonyms, to
Sterilize the truth with fiction, so we can sing their corporate
Hymns. and all of us were cowed and bought it, hardly anybody got
It. while mergers made their spires grow taller what they let you
Know grew smaller. and we were scared, or too bemused, and so we
Still turned on the news.

Are you afraid yet? they want you to be. it will keep you coming
Back. you are a loyal customer. are you afraid yet? you should
Be.

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