Leave the atom alone.
The greatest romance in the life of a lyricist is when the right word meets the right note; often, however, a Park Avenue phrase elopes with a Bleecker Street chord, resulting in a shotgun wedding and a quickie divorce.
Virtue is its own revenge.
Say, it's only a paper moon, / Sailing over a cardboard sea.
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't I?
We gotta be free - The eagle and me. see Amelia Jenks Bloomer, Emancipation of Women