I'm a reluctant stereotype in a simulated reality, I've played the string theory in an unentangled multiverse, I was born in a white hole hologram, projected through a matrix of light years. I'm nobody's fool, I'm hip to the game, I wrote the script in Strawberry Fields, where nothing is real, and paid a fortune in Penny Lane by Arnold Layne and Bronco Layne. I made it all up for a Quantum Quark, it's all just a spark in the dark. I'm an independent guardian from a mirror star, waiting for my daily mail. I'm a fake news fanatic, a Mario in the loft and in the attic, I'm off script and out of kilter, a stereotype in a reluctant, variant, virtual reality.