If science is what works
Then why do you trust those casino clerks
With their robotic arms and all of their clockwork
How elusive a round clock that makes you think you can start over
In a time where people feed you their linear lies, but you forget when you're sober
Yes the clock sounds in circles, but darling you're getting older

If science is what works then why do you try and paint with water
You've got a beautiful canvas, but you're as unstable as a teeter-totter
The shower head will spin and spin and as amphibious as you feel you may never grow fins
Where you will find yourself on the bathroom floor, made a mess of wine and gin.
If science is what works, then why do you binge?

If science is what works then where do you find yourself in between my pen and my paper
When I struggle to smith words out of granite and slavework
Where imagination paints pictures in more colors then my lead
When I don't know if you're the one guiding my hand or if it's all in my head
Maybe you're a projection, and maybe in my writing I have found a self objection
But if science is what works, then why could you never decipher my sincere affection?
Why do you get along better with those robotic clerks
You and I must be more complex than clockwork
You and I must be more intricate than my own art work