Our Dying Brains

The science halls have hollow walls

And sodden carpet

At least the cops don't come in

Spare us the legal poems, broken legs can't run anyway

Some days were missed, ten kegs at Albers

And Albers turns into gear and hours become years

Well get back to work right back to work I swear

Our beakers are still full of beer

Crotch rockets and violins

We chiseled and we switched

Naw, but their not gonna mix

So please can our dying brains,

take another break