George Orwell
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Big Brother watches us, down on the ground,
Doing what we are told, not making a sound.
We listen, follow commands, its our nature,
No other lifestyle that we know.
Telescreens looking close, that's the game,
The everyday rush,
The voice never hushed:
What's the truth, what's the meaning?
Is there purpose for living?
I ask when I pause,
When I feel that I've strayed.
Am I holding the cause,
