Book of Lies

I was born in the summer of 1927

I’ve died 300 times and never seen heaven

I was in charge of 1-8/11

I don’t believe in people called Kevin
I singlehandedly created the moustache

I told Sonic the hedgehog that he must dash

I created Nintendo out of concrete

And all that power went straight to my feet
I met Jesus Christ

 at a ritual slaughter

We shared an enchilada

And he turned wine into water
I was cast from the blarney stone

I have never in my life been alone
Not really, 

cos I’ve got two heads

I am Zaphod beetlebox

Call me wrong said Fred
I lie through my teeth

I lie through the mic

In the fanciful hope

That you might like
Something I say

Or something I do

Because despite my personhood

I’m just a story to you
Bullied at school

Just a narrative

My childhood 

A character additive
Like Vienna, you think

It means nothing to me

I’m midge sure

It doesn’t matter if I speak truthfully
My potential derangement

For your entertainment

Your entertainment

My virtual enslavement
Dance little monkey

Bash those cymbals

Speak your little mouth noises

Those oratory symbols
All my idiosyncrasies

My personal conspiracies
Are just lines

Part of a script

If they weren’t

Would you give a paradigm shift?

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