Better than thou, oh better than thou,
That is what you think you are,
Looking down upon my Thebein Kingdom from afar,
In your Germantown utopia you think you are without sin,
From joyful drugged up bliss you curse my mother in that pseudo-pristine Deutch village, built upon the sweat and blood of those darker folk whose eyes you�ll never see, they drink ghetto-fab kool-aid, as you sip your overpriced matured yuppie tea,
Bitter and cold, to your old life you are a chill,
You fuck your cunt and find no relief still,
Tell me my old and time wizened father, is a dick in the mouth worth all this,
Plastic, insensitive, materialistic Prozac derivative induced bliss?
Or do some nights you lie in bed wondering about the children you emotionally abandon, and the wife and son you beat?
The kingdom in which you lie, built on hypocrisy and deny,
Whose kings dreams beat in the blackened hearts of all who put on airs, yet still need their supply ( a toke, a drink, a 3 second long rush for a shear moment of glee),
That is the place you love, a gutter for the soul, a place lacking of identity, your brain is so categorized in their boxes, there is no telling if you�ll ever see.
See the sad truth of this cross we bear, in truth we justifiable despair,
In outrage against the man whose testosterone bent, all our wills to live by threat,
Threat not of self loss, of ego disillusionment, of eternal loss of soul, damnation or the like,
Lo, threat of beating mutilation, mental strife.
Where were you in all of that?� In all of your deeds and your acts?
We say a man is more than his actions, the sum of his parts, and protest to being merely a title still, do we not?
For who would be low enough to say merely: �I am he who serves another.� �Surely not you I feel!
Yet tell me, oh father, where my legacy lies!� Who are you, what did you want, and why is it still not enough?
Haven�t you ever wondered, as I have, what remains after the flesh rots and feeds flowers?� What are you, and what makes you truly separate from me?� Can you grasp the indifferent reality in the cosmic harmony?
Fallen from grace I search for answers, how did we get here, where are we going,
I say that it is the ape that is content to live an unexamined life, in my own sort of Socratic way�
I love to be the one to disappoint you when I don�t fall down,
Living life as you did, knowing myself anyway,
Never relying on signs, gods, and women to point me on my way.
I alone rule my destiny, this you cannot imagine,
In your filthy Aristotelian logic, I am just a boy without much form and fashion.
I�ll show you my majestic grace and eternal will,
My form, my art, my reaction to what all you and your kind steal.
Rape my planet, in search of your constantly ever-changing superficiality (a damn facade to hide what isn�t there),
Go ahead Peter, see if Roark would care!
Yet keep forever on your back burner this long forgotten promise,
I am the bug who when squashed comes back as the bear!
Tell me fathers are you happy there in your new life,
For once truly alone, waiting for death on Knob Oak Cove?