This ship is sinking – so they say.
If I hurry I can reach the lifeboats.
They must be speaking figuratively; it’s only an analogy.
But who gave reactionaries the right to rain on my parade?
Their narrow-mindedness appalls me, who are they to say what I must do?
I’ll find my own way to live; I’d rather just emote.
I keep their rationality at bay
with overwhelming feeling.
But what will help me keep my feelings away, when they threaten to destroy me?
At least my feelings can’t be wrong or lie…
If that’s so, why do they tell me I’m lost and hopeless?
Thank God, er, Goodness, for beer.
Beer, I’m told, is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.
Well, I don’t believe in God, because he’s a jerk and I’m angry at him.
But alcohol, that I believe in –
I use it to numb the pain when my feelings betray me.
What if beer isn’t enough, you ask? Well, I guess there’s always sex.
Do I love this person in whose embrace I lie?
There’s that word again, lie.
But nevermind that, and nevermind love – that’s not the point.
The point is they make me feel good for now.
Can’t you see this is about me?
I know philosophy. There’s no bigger picture than my story.
The beauty is, my own narrative is all that matters to me,
and you can’t even say I’m wrong. Truth is relative.
There are absolutely no absolutes, you’re wrong to say there are.
In fact, all of your judging is downright immoral,
interfering with my development and autonomy.
Self-actualization is what I need.
It’s not religious you see, to say that I am God, and the world is as I make it.
My frailty and finiteness is only an illusion I must learn to see through,
as is my concept of self.
What did you ask?
No, I don’t know how I (do I mean not-I?) am experiencing an illusion as God,
so stop your semantic games, and go save someone who needs saving.
I’m a good person after all. While not as good as others,
I’m not as bad as some, like Hitler or that rapist on the news.
I made the curve, I’ve paid my dues.
I’m not perfect, even by my own standards, but… shut up! Sorry… damned conscience.
If I listened to it, well…it rarely says anything good anyway, so you can’t trust it.
But what started all this? Oh yeah, some whack-job telling me the boat is sinking.
I’m sure the warning was meant figuratively.
Doesn’t he know this ship is impossible to sink?
The Titanic was designed that way.