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 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 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 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 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

(I'm very glad the spring has come 
The sun shines outside bright 
The little birds that are on the trees 
Are singing for delight)