كلمات 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 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 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 I'm very glad the spring has come The Sun shines out so bright All the birds that are on the trees Are singing for delight