If I could only get the tools, the stimuli andMolecules, frozen moments in timeI could be the archetype, a credit to theGenotype, re-program your mindBut the storybook sages fill their pagesHiding from the warming sunLimitless distractions give no pause to distort aPrecious delusionDid you see the moralist retort and raise his fist »You can’t make man a machine »I can see the edifice crumbling in foggy mist,Razed by discoveryBut the storybook sages fill their pagesHiding from the warming sunLimitless distractions give no pause to distort aPrecious delusion