He splits skulls with his axioms, and a shotgun named Voltaire,
John Locke n' stock, he'll rock your socks, this P-Zombie Slayer...

Brains... brains... brains... he's got 'em

He's read Camus and Sun Tzu too, every literary pillar,
He's a zombie-bustin' Saint Augustine, natural born Schiller,
The badass bookworm boss of the holy cross-examination,
He fights undead mobs with Thomas Hobbes and rationcination,
His enemies are both dead and not, in unlife left to linger,
But he'll collapse all their uncertainties by the power of Schroedinger.
You can tell him that he Kant, "But it's imperative," he'll say.
With his David Humean touch he will commit you to the flames.

A syllogistic softy olden days of yore,
He read the Philosophy of History, and he's Hegeling for more.
He hits the road with Diderot and a fair share of Jean-Jacques,
So if you think he don't know frenchmen you can suck on his Balzac.
You know argument is moldable like Plato in his hands,
You're barking up the wrong sophiststry if you're challenging this man.
They call him René Descarnage, and you'll finally know why,
When it's finito he screams Cogito ergo someone's gonna die!

No one wants to go outside when the world is gonna eat'chya
So he'll touch up on tautology and brush up on his Nietzsche.
You can help out too, whenever you are bored
Just flip out like a philosopher, and put Descartes before the hordes!

Lyrics submitted by Haragorn

The Philosophical Zombie Slayer song meanings
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