School of Design
I found a school of design
It was in a wealthy town
A river ran by
It was empty, holidays, who knows
But I went in
I was killing time
Moving through the halls
There was fresh paint wet on the walls
Everything was white and all the clocks were
Well designed, all ticking in time, and
I was struck by a feeling
It’s hard to describe
The urge to bust through the ceiling
Raise glass to the sky
I found the archives
At the school of design
Crowded cabinets of books
So I went in
I was killing time
Turning pages frail with dust
I couldn’t help but smile
At the ideal shape and make up of things
Written like words divine
I was struck by a feeling
It’s hard to describe
The urge to bust through the ceiling
Raise glass to the sky