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Days Of A Higher Being
I am made of many cells,
Like everyone normally will,
Elementary my dear Watson,
Does my body fit the bill?
Building blocks,
From my head down to my toes,
How many all together?
I'll probably never know.
I can't count them all,
And neither can you,
Go use the microscope,
And you'll get a close up view.
I guess I'm complex,
Made as a higher being,
I can sing, talk, and yell,
And pretend to be the king.
But after you discover,
What you are,
And what you're not,
You could be too old,
To give it all you got.
Young at heart,
But still white and gray,
Just let your mind stay childlike,
And have your healthy days.
Copyright © 1999 - 2025
Steve Bujanow, Chris Theriault, Neo Cortex The Band, aka Neo Cortex
All rights reserved
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