It's a Virus
A little song by sci-fi writter David Brin.
IT’S A VIRUS
Back in the Pleistocene,
When we were still marine,
a virus launched a quest,
to be the perfect guest
And re-arranged our genes.
So to this very day,
Whether you grok or pray
all your inheritors
count on those visitors
And what they make you pay.
REFRAIN
It’s a virus,
It inspired us,
to rise above the mud.
It’s a virus,
It’s desirous,
of your very flesh and blood.
Now I know your body’s burning,
But don’t give up the ghost.
Tiny viruses are turning you
Into the perfect... host.
Though you may curse microbes
who make you blow your nose,
evolution bends
to what a virus sends,
making us recompose.
Though when you least expect
You may be struck down next
thank the virus, he
put us in misery,
But then he gave us sex!
It’s a virus,
Its inspired us,
to rise above the mud.
It’s a virus,
It’s desirous,
of your very flesh and blood.
Now I know your body’s burning,
But don’t give up the ghost.
Tiny viruses are turning you
Into the perfect... host.
Back in the Pleistocene,
When we were still marine,
a virus launched a quest,
to be the perfect guest
And re-arranged our genes.
So to this very day,
Whether you grok or pray
all your inheritors
count on those visitors
And what they make you pay.
REFRAIN
It’s a virus,
It inspired us,
to rise above the mud.
It’s a virus,
It’s desirous,
of your very flesh and blood.
Now I know your body’s burning,
But don’t give up the ghost.
Tiny viruses are turning you
Into the perfect... host.
Though you may curse microbes
who make you blow your nose,
evolution bends
to what a virus sends,
making us recompose.
Though when you least expect
You may be struck down next
thank the virus, he
put us in misery,
But then he gave us sex!
It’s a virus,
Its inspired us,
to rise above the mud.
It’s a virus,
It’s desirous,
of your very flesh and blood.
Now I know your body’s burning,
But don’t give up the ghost.
Tiny viruses are turning you
Into the perfect... host.
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