This they say, whoever be they may,
The crux of the matter sucks.
The world is mute, and that's not cute,
Tragedies come loaded in trucks.
Look around you, the selfish look,
Yes, you and your chosen safe.
Is that all, if it were others to make a call,
And it was you instead very unsafe?
The species we are lives on trust,
Enabled by group think and tales.
The tales have now got screwy,
We're chasing our own tails.
Wake up stoic, there's no magic,
It's all really hard as rock you know.
Convenience is really inconvenient,
Time not an inexorable flow.
We don't even have free will,
All from a puddle of roiled choice.
Whatever we do isn't destiny,
But a twisted nature-nurture voice.
Under our skin, dimensions within,
Things aren't really as they seem.
Fact may be weirder sometimes,
As if deep-fried in a dream.
