I see yer brains lopsided, yer head hangs to one side, The other side has atrophied, no need to blush or hide. I've got a gizmo for yer peculiar predicamin, It's a fancy kind of gadget, not ancient medicine. You'll plop Left half upon this platform, don't worry it can roll, And proceed the current course with vigor, no matter what the toll. Intuition is poppycock, big pictures are overhyped, Define, categorize and collect; metrics are true sight.