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The Gerbil Cage


In the English boarding school
The new headmaster sits in his cube
He’s busy with his new position paper:
How to cut off your arm to spite your finger

Too much trouble with beer and disco
Too many rules not being observed
He was sent by a foreign power
To ask the questions and mark the hours

Now he sits in his converted closet
Watching the drones through the secret peepholes
The eyes of the velvet painting of Bruce
Will follow you wherever you go.

In Chernobyl we believe the Czar is wise and good
When he does wrong we blame it on bad counsel
He means well but he can’t be everywhere
The gerbils whisper daily news in his ear.

© 1990 Undulant Rhetoric (BMI)