It’s time to write fast, the school bell is about to ring,
Dust flies through the aspens
And that bully boy has torn the pages
From his math book—they fly across the room
And all the Jungian shadows of the children rise
It’s time to write fast, time to run
The grown men, the grown women
Must now bury their hats
Hurry with the penmanship
Explain it
That day the President died
They turned us loose
Planet of the Blind 