|
He prescribes the subject |
|
he proscribes outsiders |
|
his terms have a golden ring. |
|
He wants to find some order |
|
quantifying chaos |
|
in words that all the children sing. |
|
He tabulates the lexicon |
|
vocabulary minimised |
|
bow down to the Jargon King. |
|
All questions become so simple |
|
if we eat the inane answer |
|
if we all agree to ju-ju speak |
|
we fit into the formula |
|
we all without exception |
|
approve the rule. |
|
We don't understand |
|
he must be clever |
|
he must be clever |
|
he must be right |
|
he must be right |
|
we don't understand |
|
Closed the ranks and barricades |
|
imposed the secret language |
|
complexity all catch-phrased |
|
word-drugged any anguish |
|
pigeon-holed allusions |
|
shut the vault behind us |
|
It's an obvious conclusion |
|
we'll be the chattels of His Highness. |
|
Bow down to the Jargon King |
|
and his minion code-words. |
|
Here comes the reign |
