Tonight’s the night I’m gonna kill the solipsist
in punishment for every scrap and crumb I missed
from circling the bowl of ugly self-deceit
I’ve chewed over my bowl of chaff now onto meat
I’ve seen all of the dirty trash on easy hire
and law enforced with gasoline in an old tire
there’s very little difference life worth zero
there’s no such thing as winning there is no hero
he makes a lot of cardinal moments and hard truth
pretends to be iconoclastic, dark, uncouth
he’s only expert of one subject such a bore
the word that comes most readily to mind is whore
if every conclusion reads as artifice
too many recollections of every near miss
the solipsist will tell me how he saw it come
and if I think I’m through with him I sure am dumbwhat
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