Who said "To thine own self be true"?

Oh right, the guy who got ran through

And who decreed that all unclean

get thrown in a ditch outside town?

Oh right, that was God

Let me tell you how to make it in the world today

And by "I", I mean "Simplis Pueris Mentalis Doktor"

Mentalis simplis pueris eye

For the sky that is over you is brass

And the ground that you tread upon is iron

From what I say you can deduct the truth

And the rest can be thrown in the squelch chamber

Too many jewels

Not enough of fingers

Left all the poets and malingerers inside, inside, inside

To gain financial

One must be a hollowed out instrument

An original instrument of God

I say yes to no and maybe

Waste can be wine, waste can be wine

And what is lost is of no consequence

A real rich dad, poor dad kinda deal

Famously nervous spectral duping

Is the enemy of profit and its disciples

I'll tell you all about aposiopesis, if, if

Too many jewels

And not enough of fingers

They are the fallow and they are disassemblers inside

inside, bug-eyed, inside, inside

I do all my shady business at Zeidman's

and that's how I get ahead

Every road crooked must be made straight

Every mountain must be made flat

And I know if I die in a field and inside

And I know inside, inside, bug-eyed, bug-eyed

Too many jewels

Not enough fingers

Well, I hope you all maintain sales, sales

Inside, inside, inside, inside, bug-eyed

You all eat ash

You all eat ash

To know me

Is to love me

To know me

Is to love me