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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

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