Opinions Are True

It should be noted that this isn't about anyone in particular - its about the question of when opinions become fact. And of course all kinds of other things, like shoes, and goo.

She claims her opinions are true,
and I don't know what to do.

And my fresh bouquet is now askew;
I can't find my way out of this political zoo;
I'm looking for answers, but there are not a few,
and the baddies never seem to get their due!

And she claims her opinions are true?

And in the end its a Nike shoe;
we'll see how much honour a man can accrue;
if you're looking for the wealthy, they already flew,
and the seat that you offer's all covered in goo!

I completely forgot to close the flu,
and there's hundreds of banknotes,
and they all smell like poo.
The fat bearded doctor has a bagpipe tattoo,
and this lovely fresh bouquet is breaking in two!

And she claims her opinions,
mind you not a few -
are true!

And the sky has turned green,
I see trees of blue,
and my communist cousin has fled for Peru,
and Winnie and Piglet, and
Kanga and Roo,
All stare with amazement at this murky stew.

And the answers keep coming -
they are not a few;
the judge and the jury, paralyzed by the view,
have thrown out the old, to favour the new.

But in conclusion, although all this is true,
I can relax in my hammock without feeling too blue. . .

I mean,
at least my opinions are true!