We’re not allowed to think outside the box,
Thinking at all is frowned upon out here.
Forget creating anything, no dear.
They only want us sitting there like rocks.

They keep all books under the keys and locks,
And try t’enstill pervasive sense of fear.
They cannot hold me down, my voice they’ll hear,
I’ll fight back verb’ly, muse’cly, ’til gun cocks.

Enclothed in Converse, jeans, a pen in hand,
signs of rebellion, ones that cause a stir
and ’tract attention, but it makes them heed.

451 has nothing on this land.
They’ll kill me off, but it won’t work, no sir.
’Cause on that fateful day, I will be freed.