If I could only get the tools, the stimuli and Molecules, frozen moments in time I could be the archetype, a credit to the Genotype, re-program your mind But the storybook sages fill their pages Hiding from the warming sun Limitless distractions give no pause to distort a Precious delusion Did 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 discovery But the storybook sages fill their pages Hiding from the warming sun Limitless distractions give no pause to distort a Precious delusion