“What is truth? For the multitude, that which it continually reads and hears.”
What is truth, does it hang about the BBC,
Like mist or ozone in the air?
I think it must be so, for it seems to me
That all such facts as can be trusted are approved there.
What is truth? do you know? does anyone care?
Can it be what I wish it to be?
Is it common as muck, or like gold, quite rare?
What is truth, does it hang about the BBC?
And can I ignore it if it makes me feel free,
If living a lie, prevents my despair?
What is truth, does it roll across the deep, grey sea,
Like mist or ozone in the air?
Can I challenge what they say it is, or shouldn’t I dare?
Will it die if I don’t pay my license fee?
Is it what it’s acceptable on Twitter, to share?
I think it must be so, for it seems to me
It’s only what you’d want your peers to see.
No point in facts that do not seem fair.
Does Parliament invent it? Do they guarantee
That all such facts as can be trusted are approved there?
And what are opinions, are they just a snare
Designed to trip you up? Do they sting like a bee?
Must they be squashed or avoided if they take you, unaware?
What is truth, is it what I hear continually
Does it hang about?
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