Soon enough, oh little ones
Every singled out thought
Will be left out to rot
We don’t need these sort of things
Poisoning our minds
We want our brains empty, bare apple rinds
There isn’t any need
For fairy tale castles, mixed-up heroes or fights
Can’t have you exposed to different thoughts
Or creatures of the night
Soon enough, oh little ones
The paper will burn, all farenheight four-fifty-one
And rejoice, oh you the young, the right will have won