By Anonymous
They tell us that Isaac Newton discovered gravity
When an apple fell on his head
But all them Spartans falling off the cliff
Are pretty sure that they’re all dead
Then Einstein figured that time is relative
But the Mayans saw it like a spiral, too
And those Aborigines in the Australian bush
Knew the dreaming is more than me and you
I went down to the shops last week
And I saw more magazines with pretty faces
And I went on the internet last week
And I saw old magazines with pretty faces
Maybe Angelina Jolie will be forgotten
Maybe Isaac Newton will be remembered
Maybe Julius Caesar will be remembered
And maybe George W Bush will be forgotten
And maybe an apple will fall on my head
After I jump off this cultural cliff
And maybe because time is relative
I won’t actually be dead
But it doesn’t matter who I am
No, it doesn’t matter who I am
My /b/rothers all have babies
So it doesn’t matter who I am
I saw an article about food running out last week
Maybe there won’t be any more apples
I saw an article about bees dying last week
Maybe there won’t be any more fruit
But it doesn’t matter who I am
No, it doesn’t matter who I am
I wrote this poem before I contracted rabies
So it doesn’t matter who I am
I saw a bear chasing after me this morning
The gum leaves were contaminated with uranium
I saw the sting ray giving old Steve a big old kiss
The water board was contaminated with uranium
But it doesn’t matter who I am
No, it doesn’t matter who I am
I ran away from the scrub and the bunyip baby
So it doesn’t matter who I am
And now my body is amongst the Spartans
And the last apple is upon my head
And my mouth is drooling, my legs bitten off
And soon I’m sure I will be dead
But it doesn’t matter who I am
No, it doesn’t matter who I am
The archeologist will think I’m a consort
So it doesn’t matter who I am
Next century they dug me up from the ground
And they saw my skull amongst the spears
They figured I was an Amazonian
Give or take a couple of years
There was a book on ebay
It was written by little old me
I called it The Life of an Amazonian
They’ll think it’s pretty neat
The by-line was something I made up
Because I’m a bit of a sick fuck
Walking around and seeing my work
Without ya’ll knowing is such a laugh
The taggers get my game
When they plastered all over their name
The taggers get my fame
They’re living it again and again
Cos it doesn’t matter who I am
No, it doesn’t matter who I am
The historians will think I’m Plato
So it doesn’t matter who I am
