I’m a scientist of ill refute. Graveyards are a place I loot. The townsfolk’s pitchforks bring me fame. People confuse my creation with my own name.

Named after artists of the renaissance. When crime is a foot, we’re the response. Thank us with a pizza order. And don’t forget to invite our favorite Channel Six reporter!

Impressions of old, ancient secrets I hold. Life turned to stone, in the ground all alone

I'm often separated by color. In the past I'd be in farms and fields, but now I'm a many in factories. I'm beated and I'm whipped, but I don't bleed. We used to be sold by the dozens, but now, it's harder come to buy us.

Often beaten into shape and put into chains. We might be mistaken for fool's, but we aren't animals; We still have veins. Turned into a commodity, some might strike me, but I'll not bleed and I'll seldom react. We built great wealth, that is a fact.