Naturally the dying man wonders to himself,
Has commentary been more lucid than anybody else?
And had he successfully beaten back the rising tide
Of idiots, dilettantes, and fools
On his watch while he was alive?
Lord, just a little more time!
Oh, in no time at all
This'll be the distant past.
Ooh!
So says the dying man: “Once I'm in the box
Just think of all the overrated hacks running amok
And all of the pretentious, ignorant voices that will go unchecked.”
The homophobes, hipsters, and 1%,
The false feminists he'd managed to detect,
Oh, who will critique them once he's left?
Oh, in no time at all
This'll be the distant past.
What he'd give for one more day to rate and analyze
The world made in his image as of yet
To realize what a mess to leave behind!
Eventually the dying man takes his final breath,
But first checks his news feed to see what he's 'bout to miss,
And it occurs to him a little late in the game
We leave as clueless as we came,
From the rented heavens to the shadows in the cave,
We'll all be wrong someday.
Oh!
Oh!
Oh!