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Legs scream at bikes and bikes scream at trucks |
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And motorists curse their lousy luck |
|
Crossing guard's not doing his job |
|
And traffic's not about to stop for the first casualty of thought |
|
It's the rules |
|
It's the rules |
|
Superfarmer's bent on the cover of time |
|
The moralists scream he's all mine |
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So the bard isn't doing her job |
|
The vacuum night, the darkest rites, the small quarantined thoughts |
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It's the rules |
|
It's the rules |
|
Salesman said this vacuum's guaranteed |
|
It could suck an ancient virus from the sea |
|
It could put the dog out of a job |
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Could make traffic stop so little thoughts can safely get across |
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It's the rules |
|
It's the rules |
|
Guaranteed or not |
|
It's the rules |
