My camera’s tell me you’re watching.
My speakers report you’re listening.
My sneaking suspicions follow your car.
They speak to me. The newscasters. Yet the truth you encode in weather.
A storm coming Friday.
I see that wink.
You finally accept truth.
Seven minus five equals two.
Me and you.
A person so paranoid of being "observed" that they end up observing themselves the same way they fear. Then believing the people on the news are
talking specifically to them but the weather forecaster is on "their side" of things. The person has an infatuation with the forecaster to the point
of believing they are getting secret messages. Then a goofy nod to numerology, seven days in a week, Friday being the fifth, and a cheeky nod and
comment about a storm on Friday being a confirmation of they being the only two in the know. Seven minus five equals two.
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