These imperfections, these infections that all of you introduced me to (when I was waddling, wrapped in swaddling, one or two), have become habits, automatic, second nature. I hope you're happy with these beasts like me you've made. 'Cause we're sick boys and we've been poisoned but by your standards we're just fine especially when we make your grade. So here you have "La Ferme de Pavlov." Here we are, mouths watering over girls and guns. But I won't race in- to formation like the others if the big flood ever comes. 'Cause I've got theorems they're the serums for diseases you disseminate. See Reason's Might hide behind my right eye. Look at my left, it's full of dreams. I open one up, close the other depending on the situation. I'm perfecting how to operate. So that when the Flood comes this Gadfly flies away.