The Babble rang From Devices Tracked inside their heads And the voices said Buy this own it And fulfil your emptiness don’t worry Your pretty heads Understanding has no importance The voice of the child Continued to cry The command came down Don’t listen to her If you are not A material junkie You are nothing And you deserve to perish On the hill Above the crowd The old man walked A Fool on the hill He did not Know these people Who were they? What was their reason for being alive Long ago The Fool had Set himself apart Separated Holy in a bubble Of his own time He had tried To send Messages Out from within this sphere They clapped And whistled And cheered Believing that was enough That was all they had to do They did nothing more Letting Time speed by Living in a soap opera Safe and sound And the fool on the hill Was lost to them
