Synthesizer, microwave me / Give me a drug so I can make seven babies / Pump my breasts up, can you suck the fat up / Please make my life appear / Like ain't no such thin' as bad luck / My, nose ain't right / Like I need a new one / Just take your pick, a yellow red / A black or a blue one / Virtual reality, virtual, bullshit! / Synthesizer preachers can reach you up in the pulpit
— André 3000 -Synthesizer, Aquemini
The age of augmentation is upon us. Big lips, fake ass and all that trash does nothing to feed our mental garden. Only love and acceptance of one's self can fill the void. Be the curvaceous planter that holds the matter from which you bloom. Don't chase the fake only to feel the ache inside your bones. Your mind is the greatest garden.