Good Person

I’m a good person.
So what if I pull some strings?
I’m a good person.
Whatever you think that means.

Each day I stumble blindly
And pull myself along.
But while I stumble blindly
At least I know what’s wrong.

The common people dance around
And they enjoy their day.
They’re happy to cluelessly dance around
But they’re wrong in every way.

They are loud, and they are proud
And they treat this world like shit.
They act proud and they are proud
Because they don’t know it’s not worth it.

These fools joke around ruthlessly every day.
They are not for any creature.
They act so flawless every day,
Save for each undesirable feature.

They strive not for perfection
And are content to let their minds rot.
They think negatively of perfection
And suffer not for this thought.

Well, they deserve to feel guilt
When they throw garbage on the roads.
They need to feel guilt
When they don’t do what they’re told.

The commoners are children
Raised by irrational, inconstant parents.
It’s not their fault they are children
Even when their lives are spent.

Because this immoral, crazy world
In which we reside
Is our immoral, crazy world,
Its laws we must abide.

If we fail, it won’t be the world
Who’s going to be fucked.
If we fail, it’s just us
Who’ll be out of luck.

Everything is enduring
And we can make it better.
Everything is enduring
And that’s why I write this letter.

To leave a good impression
Should be each man’s desire.
To depart it with a good impression
Should be what he wishes to acquire.

He does not care, he’ll never care
What happens later.
He does not, will not ever care
Because his heart’s an empty crater.