Press-Modeus

This empty dim-lit office, of humanity bereft
This steaming black lair, the cleaners have long since left
Just I, and I alone, with calculated diligence
Hissing with the stench of cheaply earnt influence

" You have the right to know "
Even business that's not yours
But who the hell am I to impose my moral laws?

A soul-less lonely pen-scratch, and sullen keyboard chatter
As I snatch your private life away, and make you front-page-platter
For the lustful ravenous masses, who pluck my column from the shelf
Who can't form their own opinions, and despise your fame and wealth

" You have the right to know "
Veils this seedy tabloid fest
Yet who the hell am I to decide what's for the best?

I barge my views to the front of the queue, I've got something to say
Control your fear and feed your anger, such easily digested prey
You don't want facts or truths, they only complicate
Just swallow what you want to hear, I'll duly fabricate

" You have the right to know "
Is the feeble lame excuse
And who the hell am I, with this power I abuse?

With claws and talons fully drawn, I dismember any cultures
That don't conform to my beliefs, and draw you in like vultures
Nothing sacred in my world, just a scandal, falsehood vendor
I dig the dirt and mix it up with political agenda

" You have the right to know "
It's your 'freedom' I defend
But who the hell am I? And from where did I ascend?
Press-modeus, well that's my name
A product of infernal flame
But it matters not from where I came
It's where I'll take you, that's my game
For now your media will always be blessed
By my presence, every Journo soul possessed
And soon you'll see the dreadful truth
That your " Right to know " is a fraudulent spoof