My Surrender

Rip my heart open for an audit, I’d say But there is better technology, a new day It’s my brain you should be scanning, hey To that, I surrender

Arrange an fMRI helmet for my head Play Sibelius’ No. 5 in E-Flat Major in bed Play Bach’s Toccatas and Fugues, dead To that, I surrender

Arrange a neuroscientist, you must Show me breasts to gauge my lust Pose moral quandaries in a gust To that, I surrender

Arrange a historian, you may Hold my trial under the Pantheon’s ray See what the shrines of Samarkand say To that, I surrender

Arrange a priest to synthesize the results
What neurons did you see fire today? What doubts did you clear away? To that, I surrender, okay?