Gone

Am I a prisoner under watchful eyes from glowing boxes all around the world?
How could I ever disappear when my footsteps never fade and there's always the trace of my boredom under my name for all my friends and friends of friends...  
My digital impression, fingerprints of my mind,  
my own demise.  
I could never lie,  
even if I wanted to,  
there's proof everywhere.  
My thoughts, my secrets, my hand between my thighs,  
everybody knows.  
They can read my lines, put their own inside my brain,  
make me want what I see, make me forget why I sin.  
Clicks on ads inadvertently, what did I just agree with?  
If I don't use I'm not alive, if I use I just survive.  
Maybe I am a prisoner.  
Maybe I'm not from this age...  
I don't know which is worse.