Tomorrow's Man (Poetry)

Held down too long by other people’s suffocating rules
and hatched out from institutions masquerading as state schools

Where perfection’s classed as anarchy, few confess to such a crime
while most will go for average and just barely make the line

There is no room for the genius — any voice that shouts above
and fosters insurrection in the cause of carnal love

The censor’s got full power and he’s sending to the wall
the last of the old hippies with their songs that saved us all

The writers and the artists hang on tight to freedom’s bone
expressing safe opinions for Big Brother’s bugged the phone

There’s surveillance in the hallways and there’s cameras on the
                                                                                        street
and a nagging warning in your head the nightmare’s near-complete

Tomorrow’s man already programmed for the city’s honeycomb
condemned to one small sterile cell — no thought to call his own