The Teachers Are Afraid Of The Pupils

There's too many people
Planning your downfall
When your spirit's on trial
These nights can be frighteningSleep transports sadness
To some other mid-brain
And somebody here
Will not be here next yearSo you stand by the board
Full of fear and intention
And if you think that they're listening
Well, you've got to be jokingOh, you understand change
And you think it's essential
But when your profession
Is humiliationSay 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 youMucus on your collar
A nail up through the staff chair
A blade in your soap
And you cry into your pillowTo 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
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a reliefSay 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 youTo 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
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a reliefI'm very glad the spring has come
The sun shines out so bright
Little birds upon the trees
Are singing for delight