Your naiveté is unbecoming 
for a person of your age. 
You're more suited for slumming 
then the vocation of sage. 

It remains to be seen 
how many times you're wrong. 
And like cheese turning green, 
you've ignored me too long. 

I won't follow along 
on your madman's plot. 
I won't follow the throng 
while you let your mind rot. 

If you could stop your shouting 
long enough to blink, 
you might fault your touting 
and then you'd have to think. 

When I tell you that you're wrong 
give me half a chance. 
And I'll listen to your song 
though I'm familiar with the dance. 

It's not wrong to have convictions, 
and not wrong to believe. 
(Though I see yours as inflictions, 
that you'd do well to leave.) 

But you can have opinions, 
just as well as I 
It just really irks my pinions 
when you refuse to ask why. 

The why is the truth 
and the why is your clue 
so it wouldn't hurt to sleuth 
and to doubt a little, too. 

The truth is definetly out there, 
maybe further than you think 
and you'd improve your fare 
if you'd swim instead of sink.