It's so much easier to say it out loud
when you really know what you're talking about
When the words are their meaning
you don't figure them out
When there's no competition, you don't have to shout
Then you really know what you're talking about
I don't think you knew what you were yelling about

You see, there's a place where we all seem to go
where the pansies and posies all dutifully grow
Where you see all the writers like Frost and Poe
They're never needing but subtly pleading
in that morose tone we all subjectively know
This is the place we all seem to go
But why this place-- I don't really know

You'll never get there-- That's all I can say
Though you work and labour day by day
you give them your all with close to no pay
Give up, give in, to keep big heads at bay
Til your knuckles are bleeding more than we enjoy seeing
You'll never get there-- your world is just grey
You're just another, that's all I can say

They work you and call you the "dirty" or "poor"
They'll never see what you've got in store
At nap time, consider, their life is a bore
So when the hand strikes, it's time to explore
Come, tell me-- what's behind that locked door?
Number and papers-- are there even more?
Now you're in this place where posies grow
Where quoth the Raven, "Nevermore"