There's too many people
Planning your downfall
When your spirit's
on trial
These nights can
be frightening
Sleep transports
sadness
To some other mid-brain
And And somebody here
Will not be here next year
So you stand
by the board
Full of fear and intention
And, if you think that they're
listening
Well, you've got to be joking
Oh,
you understand change
And you think it's essential
But when your profession
Is humiliation
Say the wrong word to our children...
We'll have you, oh yes, we'll have you
Lay a hand on our children
And it's never too late to have you
Mucus on your collar
A nail up through the staff chair
A blade in your soap
And you cry into your pillow
To be finished would be a re lief
To be finished
would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a re lief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
Say the wrong word to our
children...
We'll have you, oh yes,
we'll have you
Lay a hand on our children
And it's never too late
to have you
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would
be a re lief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief