Scathing Review of Existence

The reviews are in on this glam sham monsteropolis of living known as civilization,
The reviews are in like buttons on the existence bomb of time,
And I carry them into town on the rolling blue bus with a razor,
Why, I don’t know, but I figured if the reviews are in, maybe I should let some people know,
There was a guy with a moustache,
But, he doesn’t have it anymore,
I replaced it with knowledge,
The most potent, desperate, human need.
Knowledge,
Splattered all over his face.
The reviews are in you ridiculous scum, take an interest!
I am the barber of knowledge, and I say,
Wear it on your sleeve, wear it on your skin, for fuck’s sake, get involved!
These reviews are like crushing acid, they’ll take away your breath,
But how are we going to learn you murderous, murdered, ball of person-slime?
How are you going to rise up against yourself,
Unless I paste you to the floor, with a mountain of press reports on this matter,
You don’t know what matters,
You don’t even know what language these reviews are in,
What skull-sucking media these reviews are in,
What code these reviews are encrypted in,
But it doesn’t matter because I will put the reviews in,
Put the reviews right in your brain,
Like pepper-spray for your gray matter,
These reviews of all the titanic pitter-patter of mankind,
I’m going to shove them right in your head so you understand,
The reviews are in you cowardly bitch of a thing,
Wake up and smell the ink bleeding through your skin,
I came into this town to shave you clean,
You don’t even need facial growth for me to care enough,
To slice you into shape, and pour into you these reviews,
The reviews are in, the reviews are in you, and you are in review,
Little man, tiny woman,
Hold my wretched hand and read these blessed things,
These grand reviews of you and me,
Let’s stare down the sun and incant together from the book of ourselves,
People, dear people, your performance is beyond the pale,
Of any and all complete and utter lack of expectation,
Right up to and including the production of these reviews,
The expression of which is leaning towards infantile,
Slanting towards imbecile,
It’s just a sad, sorry, slipshod society show that you are running here,
And we hereby retract our support, our recognition and our involvement
In such a poorly executed operation,
I mean, please,
Do read the reviews,
It’s all in the reviews and the reviews are in existence,
So let me chant right here in the town square what is in the reviews,
Of existence that the reviews are in,
Of reviews of existence that the reviews are in,
Of existence is in the reviews that are in,
And existence is out.