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With laptops made of calfskin |
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Wrought to spread the holy will |
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Disseminating dogma |
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Using lapis, gold and quill |
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And the word was with the few and the few were very strong |
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A mass communication where you feel you don't belong |
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Now the words that flow between us run like torrents through the air |
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Connecting every man at any moment anywhere |
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Seems that what's important at the end of the day |
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Down through all the ages just the same old things to say |
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Sure, the aldermen and theigns did tarry |
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Warmed in winter halls |
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With new ideas and learning locked up |
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Safe within their walls |
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Till the patrons all did strive, with the "Blue Plague brigade" |
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Victorian reformers will be smiling in their graves |
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To hear how the news spread between us |
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Something good to tell the world? |
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Though it's mostly dumb and they say it's cheap |
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There's a talk plan made for everyone |
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To think some people deny this |
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In a free state, tongues too should be free |
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And in desperate lands, the disaffected hand |
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Sprays "Save the world" upon the street |
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Now the words that flow between us run like torrents through the air |
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Connecting every man at any moment, anywhere |
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Seems that what's important at the end of the day |
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It's mass communication and we call can have our say |
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We may speak of creature comforts |
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But still our greatest feat |
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Is to see and hear and understand |
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The words upon the street |
