In microscopes, petri dishes, test tubes
We fear death, and end of our existence
Human life spans are limited in time
The Garden of Eden as genetic soup
A DNA lab of creation and persistence
We've cloned our selves, cells, our pets
We created new organs and limbs to fit
Science is neutral, most discoveries benign
We bow down before it, as if it is an altar
We might well call ourselves Frankenstein
It'd be appropriate to call us his monster
How can we ever be proud of our actions
Cloaking ourselves in fetid vile fashions
For the sake of comfort, fear, and leisure
We've become the victims of wanting more
Which is odd consider our dissatisfaction
With the lives that we live being unaltered
