by Nick Gisburne
Though elegant, your body does not fit
It falls below the standard we expect
Allow us to evolve and alter it
To modify, to polish, to perfect
With molecules of exothermic tin
Injected in defective DNA
The petty imperfections of the skin
In moments will be stripped and sucked away
The knitting of new tissues will take time
But luxury can simplify your stay
And though our service constitutes a crime
Success is worth the premium you pay
Another precious princess for the lab
Dissected on a dirty slaughter slab
