The Philosopher

When the pathological liar lies
He’s not really lying
When the hypochondriac dies he’s really dead
The jam goes on the paper the butter on the bread
Brain cells are teased gray matter appeased
When you eat steak, it’s a wake for a cow
Sizzlin' bacon’s one for a sow
The Philosopher rides on the back of his ass
Bleeding the rich
Intriguing the lower class
Though nobody gets the message
They take the passage out of the void
And into the hypnotic niche
His magic words enter your head
With the force of lead
Soft flesh tears like bread
Making Socrates look brain dead
So open your mind, like you have a choice
Feel your cortex rejoice
His words food for thought
Your soul, sold and bought
Hypnotic verbiage in collusion with a
Psychopathic misfit’s thoughts
You live in a cocoon, break out, take flight!