What, if we have the whole of our existence wrong?
That we have followed down the false path not the true?
That we instead of being noble paladins are just,
Poor, miserable, deluded, hairless apes that dream?
What if our only purpose here on earth,
Is just to be born, to fuck, to die,
No more than any other beast,
Produced for slaughter or to slowly die?
What if our only purpose here is just,
To make more babies to increase the herd,
For feasting on and feast ourselves,
As part of this rich web of life?
What if I and all my caterwauling band,
Have no more worth than cow or dog?
That all we are is just a beat,
Within the ticking clock of earth?
What if our running from this truth,
Is base perversion designed to fail?
What if our whole existence is,
An evolutionary, grave mistake?
What if our heaven and our hell,
Have no more power than what we dream?
What if truth is comfort in the night,
And nothing more than lies we tell ourselves?
What if we were not meant to live,
In steel and concrete, brick and tile?
What if all our art and science,
Is but diversion from our path?
What if to love is just the rush of chemicals,
Part of us like digesting food,
And no more special than the waste,
That we produce and then discard?
What if the truth is merely this?
That we have no more purpose here,
Than to be hunted and to hunt,
And all we do must turn to dust?
How must I now then see that this,
My whole life is but mud and ash,
That I have no more worth than ant,
Or dog, a beast who ruts and dies?