Naturally the dying man wonders to himself:

Has commentary been more elusive than anybody else?

And had he successfully beaten back the rising tide

Of idiots, dilettantes, and fools

On his watch while he was alive

Lord, just a little more time



Oh, in no time at all

This'll be the distant past

Ooh



So says the dying man once I'm in the box

Just think of all the overrated hacks running amok

And all of the pretentious, ignorant voices that will go unchecked

The homophobes, hipsters, and 1%

The false feminists he'd managed to detect

Oh, who will critique them once he's left?



Oh, in no time at all

This'll be the distant past



What he'd give for one more day to rate and analyze

The world made in his image as of yet

To realize what a mess to leave behind



Eventually the dying man takes his final breath

But first checks his news feed to see what he's 'bout to miss

And it occurs to him a little late in the game

We leave as clueless as we came

For the rented heavens to the shadows in the cave

We'll all be wrong someday



Oh

Oh

Oh