Look into the future. Look into the past. Look into the lives that we live today.
Little by little. One word at a time. We're slowly burning our conscience away.
Till every small group will raise their voice and try to rewrite the author's voice.
Till everything stops and never starts again. Then we've edited life and there's no way to make amends
Feeding the frenzy, we turn on the TV and make believe we are sophisticated.
Little by little, one cent at a time, we start to disregard our minds.
The truth of the story--the fact that is real; 451 isn't far away.
'Cause we have been changing all we can; stealing the pen from the writers hand.
Making believe we're in control; For we want it our way and our ego is taking its toll
For we want it our way and our way is slowly taking its toll

Someone wants to change the way the Bible makes them sad. Light the fire just a bit, the heat is not so bad.
Someone doesn't want Huck Finn to be read in his school. Let's make the fire bigger by adding some more fuel.
Edit this and edit that, and edit "dog" and edit "cat." If it don't make us warm and dull, we better take it out.
But life is so much more then this, it shouldn't be monotonous. There's beauty in creation even if you don't agree with me.

Apathetic, Disconnected in yourself. Yet so disillusioned, with your passion on the shelf.
Burning life to enforce the status quo and a tiny feeling that it's always time to go.
This is consequence it brings. burning all the literature that stings.
This is the worm that you will be and you can never be free.

Where will you go? Where will you be? You'll only remind yourself of the characters on television.
You'll be too busy worrying about your next investment or what's the next move In the corporate ladder.
You can walk the top. You could be content. But it won't be real; just like the characters in the books you wish to conceal

This is just a warning. A precautionary measure. For we are quickly loosing our grip,
As we burn the things that threaten feeling giddy.
Life should not be a joyride of ups and deleted downs. For apathetic dullness may keep us happy But then the end will come.
And when we march towards the final day. No television or mutual funds will help us in anyway.
And we will get to see what we have done. Nothing; nothing but fun.