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