(sung)
Nietzsche sneezes beneath me
He's lying underneath my loft bed
I mean, he's such an intelligent guy, but
All he keeps saying, over and over:
"I'm stupid, I'm stupid, and I don't know nothing

"And all I got is a book deal
That's all I got left to my name
My name that I can't even spell"

Kierkegaard's in the kitchen
Cooking an existential omelette
Drowning in an abyss
Of chicken and eggs and nothingness

And all he's got is a few good ideas
That's all he's got left to his name
His name that I can't even spell

(spoken)
An extreme close-up
Of a nose
Dust specks floating
Only inches away
The inches are also miles
And light years
The dust specks are also planets
And constellations
Now the nose, naturally
Is very, very big
It's giant
As is
The frying pan
(sung)
Nietzsche sneezes beneath me
He's lying underneath my loft bed
He's such an intelligent guy, but
All he keeps saying, over and over:
"I'm stupid, stupid, I don't know nothing

"And all I got is a book deal
That's all I got left to my name
My name that I can't even spell"

(spoken)
Jean-Paul Sartre
Reading nausea
Choking on what he wrote