The Existentialist

from The Professor of Rap by The Professor of Rap

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"Aujourd'hui, maman est morte."
Yesterday, my mom was dead.
"Ou peut-être hier," he said.
Today or yesterday, who knows?
"Je ne sais pas."
The Stranger chose
To chant Albert Camus' first lines,
Declaring existential binds
Where life is lived in blown despair.
Shall I eat a peach or pear?

And which day did my mother die?
Or perhaps, she's still alive.

Ennui, boredom, anomie,
Cast the young upon the sea
Of indifference and neglect.
Let's kill ourselves.
Hey, what the heck,
Let's kill another,
Unlike us,
In cars, in streets, behind the bus.

Let's deal drugs, let's rape someone,
Let's run illegal immigrants for fun.
It's existential, anyway.
And we are just a day away
From the bomb and global melt,
When nothing will be deeply felt
Except the end of every day
That did not end in quite the way
We thought it would,
Or thought it should.

It did not end at all.

And now we're stuck with all our crimes,
A dead maman, and desperate lines
Of people 'til the end of time.

The end of existentialism
Frees you from a private prison.
Get out there and work the fields,
Grow the flowers, make the meals.
Feed the children, nurture love,
Brush the cat, release the dove.

In fact, maman is still alive.
Camus is dead.
But you, you thrive.