As Theseus said to those Greek guys
“You whom the Sybil advise
Know yourself, be yourself
And if that fails, just be swell
Just be swell”

It’s a wonderful place to go
Where we used to dream
Where old friends riddle our memory
No one demands we grow digging bones down below
Such a wonderful place to go

Singing a song of ourself
And our great mysteries
Singing up paleo-ontologies
Our rivals don’t dare delve where our stories were smelt
Singing a song of ourself

With our back turned to the chorus
We can all be a brontosaurus
We’re a little bit true, a little bit fiction
Thrown a bone of self-contradiction

The ghost in our machine says
We fashion our own dreams
To become thundering lizard-brained kings and queens