Mad Scientist’s Final Offer

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They’re a shouting from the rooftops,
They’re just trying to get goosebumps,
They’re only practising what they don’t know,
They’re only travellers within their souls.
They’re a wandering in the desert,
Dreaming of cold and clammy weather,
I could keep ten theologians in my basement,
As long as they don’t touch my experiments.

But I have no answers for thee,
I’ve nothing for your majesty,
No cures for your laboratories,
No time to hear your allegories.

They’re just trying to be helpful,
They’re just trying to make sense of it all,
They’re only asking questions of me,
They’re only trying to investigate me.
They’re using me as an experiment,
Claiming the end from the beginning is a detriment,
I could keep ten theologians in my basement,
As long as they don’t touch my experiments,
Or paintings, or chemicals.

But I have no answers for thee,
I’ve nothing for your majesty,
No cures for your laboratories,
No time to hear your allegories.

But I have no answers for thee,
I’ve nothing for your majesty,
No cures for your laboratory’s sickly mice,
No time to hear your allegories, though I bet they’re nice.

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