There it is, plain and simple
It destroyed itself without any of my slander
This is the lunacy by which we kneel
This is the doublespeak by which we kill
This is the inertia that keeps tradition feared
This is the absurdity by which we walk barefoot with shoes on our heads

Ponder this to get nearer to nothing
On top of the world, think about it
There's nothing

An unseasoned meal, monotone spirits
Routine homily, nothing has never been clearer
So kill a cat to keep logic at bay
Then eat my body's finest and tell me how it tastes

Is it nothing too?
Is it nothing too?
Does it stink like nothing?
Does it poison like nothing?