[Verse] [Melancholy] [Baritone Vocals]
The city hums a low, disquieting tune
Beneath a sky that’s perpetually moon-
less, save for the glow of a thousand screens.
We walk in paths dictated by unseen machines.
A whisper of the past, a spectre in the halls,
Jeremy Bentham, gazing from spectral walls.
He dreamed of towers, of eyes that never sleep,
A gilded cage, secrets too deep to keep.

[Chorus] [Sardonic] [Lament]
Oh, the Panopticon’s digital dawn,
Where every soul is watched, though freedom’s gone.
No bars of iron, just lines of code so thin,
And the chilling thought: are they watching me again?
A benevolent eye, or a predator’s stare?
We’re all inmates now, breathing the sterile air.

[Verse] [Reflective] [Baroque Pop Influence]
Remember days of open fields and wide-eyed trust?
Now algorithms sift through every grain of dust.
Our conversations parsed, our desires mapped with care,
A perfect profile built from what we think and share.
Bentham’s design, a philosopher’s cold art,
Now finds its twisted home in every beating heart,
Or rather, in the data stream that flows so free,
A disembodied consciousness, observing you and me.

[Chorus] [Sardonic] [Lament]
Oh, the Panopticon’s digital dawn,
Where every soul is watched, though freedom’s gone.
No bars of iron, just lines of code so thin,
And the chilling thought: are they watching me again?
A benevolent eye, or a predator’s stare?
We’re all inmates now, breathing the sterile air.

[Bridge] [Building Tension] [Orchestral Swell]
And so we trade our privacy for a fleeting ease,
A constant comfort that aims only to appease.
But the walls are closing in, the network ever vast,
Can we escape the gaze that’s built to surely last?
From prison cells to our very homes,
The watchful eye forever roams.

[Chorus] [Intense] [Despair]
Oh, the Panopticon’s digital dawn,
Where every soul is watched, though freedom’s gone.
No bars of iron, just lines of code so thin,
And the chilling thought: are they watching me again?
A benevolent eye, or a predator’s stare?
We’re all inmates now, breathing the sterile air.

[Outro] [Fading Echo] [Dissonant Chord]
Watching… watching…
Bentham’s ghost in the machine…
Watching… always…
What does it all mean?
[Fade out]