Mad Scientist
Take a second look at me, for beneath this midriff flab
and balding pate and wrinkly skin you'll find a science lab.
And though all may seem quiet, it may come as quite a shock
to find there are experiments going on around the clock.
Take off my shirt where buttons strain and you will plainly see
the man-boobs test which does defy the laws of gravity.
This pinkish skin in standby mode can shift to deathly white
when I've done wrong and run at over twice the speed of light.
The stomach has increased in size, approaching critical mass
fermenting water, malt and hops delivered by the glass.
The bowel is a reactor , shutting down I'm in no hurry,
as testing is ongoing on the half-life of beef curry,
results have shown it could have blown, with lager mixed for fission
but all the same I still get blamed for resulting emissions.
If trapped inside a lift with me you wouldn't stand a prayer,
but I don't think I've made a dent in the size of the Ozone layer.
I don't believe the Nobel prize I'd win for all these tests
my missus says to keep my findings secret would be best,
and though in all these subjects there is no award for me
she says at least between us both
we've still got Chemistry.
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