God created you mortal but I can sort that, baby

Although the second album is mainly about the new, fan alienating sound, I am not Radiohead and so here is a song kind of more in the style of the old, popular stuff.

I like to think that the protagonist in this sweet put lyric is not a scientist with a lab at all, but a Saturday store assistant in Argos with a large store room (an Argos Extra?) who has had too much opportunity to think about the big questions in life between collection points and as a result has gone a bit odd.

I give you:

God created you mortal but I can sort that, Baby

God had all the elements to hand

Rolling atomic particles smaller than grains of sand

Thrown into the void, they were set free

Eventually some of them combined and fused to make you and me

What if we’re not a product of design?

What if all this is just an experiment: X over time?

What if God cares not of your life or mine?

What if God is a Scientist, we mistake notes in jotters as divine?

Made with a timer so we'll all eventually die

Life is so simple to stop and squeeze out a last sigh

Innards fail, madness prevails in milky eye

A scientist needs to find a God Clock vaccine and that scientist is I

God created you mortal but I can sort that, Baby

God didn’t make you immortal, but I can if you’d let me

I can put a glass panel in your abdomen bare

Doctors will see your organs healthy pink with no tare

You’ll live forever so long as days remain fair

If you’ll only let me sew solar panels into your long greying hair

God created you mortal but I can sort that, Baby

God didn’t make you immortal, but I can if you’d let me

I’ll replace weak flesh muscle for a carbonate part

Giving you motion, a 12 volt battery is only the start

I’ve planned you out on a systematic Gantt chart

Shockproof wheels, springs, pistons and brass valves for a heart

God created you mortal but I can sort that, Baby

God didn’t make you immortal, but I can if you’d let me

But if you're to survive, you first need the cut of my knife

Death’s never solved in stories without elegant sacrifice

For you to live, I need to cut out God's clock

Replace it with one I have in the back, from my own stock

God created you mortal but I can sort that, Baby

Live! Live!

I couldn’t stand myself thinking of saying goodbye

I kept you in my lab, knowing Death was a goddamn lie

Stab! Stab! Have to find your clock as moments tick by

As life flows in tubed osmosis, I think I see you leak out a cry

And I cry too,

You see I'm giving you the last clock in store,

Not sure we'll get in any more

I now have someone like you to live for,

So my inevitable death is cruel