I hate it when people talk about philosophy,

As if they know what they're talking about.

I hate it when people speak of religion,

As if they knew what they were talking about.

It's sad.

It's a very sad ordeal.

Even art.

Especially art.

These are things you approach with a bowed head,

Things you approach with a humble mind,

Lest they climb over you,

As your head enters your ass.

These things are of god,

And as we sit here talking about,

It's as if he is watching an ant,

Announce to the world,

The height of what it's seen,

An ant say with a pride much greater than it can withstand,

That he knows what he’s talking about.

But alas,

Talk we must.

For we are human,

We are curious.

And I see it in many of you,

The yearning,

The desperation,

To know your father.