What is life? Is it a story of strife,
When you're smoking a joint at every point?
Or is it some fantasy, or practiced apathy,
Or dreams from reality disjoint?
I think, when I shouldn't really,
There's no premium to my thoughts.
Honestly honesty has dragged me down,
The entrepreneur inside rots.
Convoluted that cheat is a feat,
While simple and straight gets hate.
Disdain and apathy, wanton violence and cruelty,
Was, I guess part of my sordid fate.
People are all superficial creeps,
They like their own kind.
Even when they sense any better,
They always side with the rind.
I don't know about knowledge,
It's expanded ignorance in fact.
More you know, less you know you know,
There's no shortcut or tact.
