It is nothing to be proud of
So often
We build our heroes
From the clay of pervasive opinion
And the water provided us daily by
The shifting fluid of popular thought
Ungenuine and ugly
Creatures of our own devising
Never stepping far enough away
To see the monstrosities
We have wrought
For what they are
Paging Doctor Paragon
We need your help again;
Here in the lower echelon
We short a few wise men
For certain, we’ve no one like you
A shining ray of light;
Who, when our lives have gone askew
Can put it all to right
We need you, Doctor Paragon
We’re hanging by a thread —
Like Catherine of Aragon
You always keep your head
I know a place, it’s a wonderful place
Where there’s always more room to explore –
Where lies are not told and all children are loved,
And venturesome heroes still soar
For dark grows the shadow where men have long lived,
Where all hope is ground into dust –
Then cold and abandoned, we wander astray,
And only look up when we must
But there is a place, it’s a wonderful place
Where the shadow is shamed by the light;
For there is a real place where heroes still soar
And people still honor what’s right
