You, who speak so softly that you cannot be understood
Rise and watch the lips of children move with rhythm and speed
Faster, now, it’s not my words you hear
But the beating of your own heart, rusting within its tight sheathe
Softly spoke the men of the house
Never a more mildly spoken group of gentlemen has talked
And each has fulfilled his noble dream
To hide what pains, ignites, and burns him
Under key and lock.

And gentlemen never forget what’s wrong
And gentlemen yell to their children what’s wrong
But it’s children who always forget what they’re taught
It’s children who see through the lies that they’ve bought
It’s children who speak now with rhythm and speed
Before anything was Law, it was proclaimed in Song
And if a child is a tree that grows from a seed
You’d better make your excuses long, long indeed.