This is a cautionary tale.
While out with a group of friends at one of my favorite restaurants in the Bloomfield neighborhood of Pittsburgh, Tessaro's, I heard somebody at the end of the table vehemently shout "this isn't Vegas!" above the din of multiple, ongoing conversations.  I never found out exactly what the specific context of that exchange was about but the line got into my psyche and this song is the outcome.
As the well known marketing slogan about "Sin City" insinuates, capitalizing on its dubious reputation as a haven for vice, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." 
However, there really doesn't seem to be any guarantee of privacy or anonymity anywhere any more, at least in most towns most of the time.
After I finished writing this song, I was reminded of the hauntingly ominous portrayal of contemporary life envisioned by the 20th Century philosopher and social critic Michel Foucault, who claimed we are all being watched and categorized by experts.
He compared us to prisoners in a “panopticon,” the perfect prison system that subjects the inmates to a constant state of surveillance by guards in a tower from which they themselves cannot be seen.