In my topsy-turvy world the self is just a fiction
And good is bad and bad is good. I bask in contradiction
I have no job, I'm OK now, I had a misspent youth
Sitting in a back row chair deriding so-called Truth
Man is the measure, he created all things; it cannot be dissented
It sticks in your craw, but even physical laws, were patently invented
No phones, no lights, no motorcars, not a single luxury
They're products of objective minds so screw technology
Philosophologists beware I'm tired of your carping
Find a squirrel running 'round a tree; that's worth a bit of harping
We're suspended in our language, it's all pointing to the moon
It's not my fault I'm inscrutable and sound just like a loon
It's not his fault he's inscrutable and sounds just like a loon
It's not his fault he's inscrutable and sounds just like a loon
It's not his fault he's inscrutable and sounds just like a like a loon
I have no use for details, but trust you'll catch my gist.
I am the very model of a modern dissing Sophist