Though life can be a challenge, and it is most of the time

Things are often easier if you can make them rhyme

The saddest part of living is the knowledge that you’ll die

That thing outside your window is neither hand nor eye

Not a sasquatch, a vampire, a sandwich or a pie

No, friend, it’s a skeleton adorned in suit and tie

He also wears a monocle beside a hat and cane

He dances rather sensually to the words of the insane

He laughs when you choke to death on ribs from Tony Roma’s

He’ll be dancing on your deathbed while you lay there in a coma

You’ve watched a lot of episodes within your mind, you see

But my friend, I didn’t write them, you could say they’ve written me

What if I’m a figment of your sad imagination?

A poor excuse to browse youtube instead of porn and masturbation

Or maybe there’s an inkling of a fear deep within your head?

A reminder of your mortality, that creeping fear and dread?

The knowledge that you’re dying and you’ve only seconds left

Alone, to make a copy of yourself with either a penis or breasts

And that copy will have a copy, or maybe it will not

For if life is an illusion, then you are but a thought

You used to be a good idea, back when you were a child

But then something happened, if I may put it mild

Maybe it’s just easier to see the world that way, to put it in a paper bag

If life were a sandwich, I’d accept that view, but life’s not a sandwich, fag

I’m smoking a cigarette by the way, and smoking it rather well

And maybe I’m deluded, Taco Bell

There are skeletons in your closet piled high as the eye can see

They’re all the regrets and things you’ve lost that keep you from being free

So you tape over tapes and change the actors and rearrange the scenery

To try and make events end up the way you want them to be

Now, as you get older, you’ll no longer worry about the things beneath your bed

It’s the things in your closet that will burrow their way into your soft egg head

The passage of time will build up regrets and memories that horrify

You’ll try your best to forget them with the knowledge soon you’ll die

That 20,000 days is just 54 years and then you start to rot

Your teeth fall out, your hair begins to thin and your penis gets strange spots

Soon the people who love you will vanish, and you’ll be cold, sad and alone

And this creeping inclination will chill you to the bone:

There is someone watching you, and he’s in the other room

He’s been there all along, assembling the bricks to form your tomb

He’s taped your thoughts for viewing but it’s your choice if you choose to see them

If you ignore the details you’ll eventually simply manifest to be them

The characters leave the television because your force them to

The next time you see a homeless man, beat him to death with your shoe

The part of you that has wanted to die has been dead all along

It’s only human nature to desire to belong

Don’t be shy, renaldo, take off that hospital thong

So perhaps you’ve learned your lesson, evil’s not a bird or bat

Not middle-income housing, bleeding gums or bodyfat,

No, evil is obviously much more simple, and much more simple than that:

Evil itself is little more than a skeleton in a tophat

So take this lesson as it is so you’re not soon bedeviled:

Be kind, rewind, and watch yourself, or you may end up…disheveled.