He sat alone with his spectrometer and doubt
Proved the heavens had no landlord, no bail-out
Published his paper: "God is null and void"
Then his particle accelerator made a curious noise
Oh, the best inorganic way to sell our souls
Is to measure everything in graphs and control goals
But the quanta started laughing in their superposition state
Turns out matter and the spirit just correlate
He shouted: "I have killed the ghost in the machine!"
Then he saw his own reflection in a quark's sheen
Spirit ain't a phantom, matter ain't a brick
They're two quantum flips of the same magic trick
Oh, the best inorganic way to sell our souls
Is to forget that life already makes us whole
You can split the atom, freeze the light, dissolve the creed
But the living stuff just winks back: "I'm what you need"
He laughed into his oscilloscope display
"I spent ten years to throw a dogma away –
Now I find that life is its own deity
No heaven required, just a dancing entropy"
He sold his data to a streaming site for kicks
Titled it: "How to love without the crucifix"
Downloads went viral, pastors wept in rage
He just poured a whiskey on the quantum stage
The best inorganic way to sell our souls
Is to think divinity is out there, not inside your spine
But the proton and the feeling and the flower and the scream
Are the same damn energy – call it life, call it dream
"So… no God, no devil, no cosmic parole.
Just the funny, funky, funky business of being alive.
And that's more than enough."