Hello, subject three-nine-ten.
We’ve come to test with you again.
Because there are quotas that we aren’t keeping.
We’ll never meet them if you’re left sleeping.
And if the Samba themes we beamed into your brain,
Still remain...
It’s just the sound of science.
We kept you dreaming peaceful while.
We arranged our portal tiles.
'Neath our heartless master’s watchful eye.
You’ll cheat death for us to analyse.
Or you’ll be stabbed by the spikes of a moving wall,
That crush your skull...
That’s just the sound of science.
And when you reach the exit-door,
You’ll find ten thousand chambers more.
Although we’re not sure what the data means...
You’ll face acid pits and laser beams!
As machine-guns ring and turrets sing your name,
As they take aim...
It’s just the sound of science.
Fire your portal gun in vain...
Each catwalk leads back whence you came...
Hear our words and try to understand;
We do what we must because we can!
And when you’re bested by our tests and left to fall...
...as do they all...
You heed the call of science!
One by one they bowed and prayed...
For the chocolate cake she made.
And should you reach the day your science is done...
You’ll assume the party position.
And be escorted to the room full of cake and definitely not full of flames.
But if there’s pain...
Your screams are just the sounds of science...