And they won’t have to burn the books when no one reads them anyway.

Conditioned inside and out  
To the point of no return
To what we may have been without all this shit we were born into: 
Poverty, depression, power and despair

Conditioned inside and out
To the point of no return
By a world not crafted by hands of our own
Yet still we march in step to the cadence of its irregular beat
The damage has been done- irreparable and all-encompassing

Worlds become obsolete like ideas
And they won't have to burn the books when no one reads them anyway.