I didn’t follow blindly in my science class at school
But they didn’t take it kindly when I told them they were fools
My experiments were not permitted
They told me I should be committed
And so, with heavy heart, I quitted
Them – cause they were tools.

But still, their censure lingers in the hollow of my ear
At midnight in my lab, their tuts and nos are all I hear
To help my work in its progression,
And shield me from my peers’ oppression,
A simple either/or expression
Keeps my vision clear:

If I stay out ‘til quarter to three, and you turn in at ten
If I've got guys chasing after me, and you’ve sworn off of men
If I like to smoke, and I like to drink, and you like to clean your bathroom sink,
Does that make me crazy? Or does it make you square?

If I hatch new philosophies on the workings of the brain,
If I espouse hypotheses that they pronounce insa-aa-ane,
If I find success with methodologies they thought they’d debunked in eighteen-oh-three,
Does that make me crazy? Or does it make them square?
I’ve been drinking mercury, and man, I feel just fine.
I’m a master of self-surgery: I get better every time!
If with every breakthrough, they keep fussin’ ‘bout unintended repercussions,
Does that make me crazy? Or does it make them square?

So, I’ll have fun combining genes they’ve told me I can’t splice
I’ll bring back beasts from the Pleistocene while they dick around with mice
I’ll conquer the world with a mutant horde while they’re still checking with their ethics board
Does that make me crazy?
(Yes, it makes her crazy)
I say, does it make me crazy? No, it makes them square!!