You can lead a man to ideas,
But you can't make him think;
You can tell him how it is.
And he'll stare at you, and blink.
You'll never make him use his brain,
The time for that is past;
He grew up with his life mapped out,
His die already cast.
Everything arranged for him,
From 'cradle unto grave',
No real hunger, no real harm.
What does he need to save?
Man - as man , exists no more,
His world is too unreal;
Not connected to reality,
He's unable, now, feel!
