The Science Halls
Have hollow walls
And sodden carpet
At least the cops don't come in
Spare us the legal poems
Broken legs can't run anyway
Yeah

Some days were missed
Ten-kegs at Albers
And Albers turns into Geer
And hours become years
We'll get back to work
Right back to work, I swear
Our beakers are still full of beer

Crotch rockets
And violins
We chiseled and we switched
Naw, but they're not going to mix
So, please, can our dying brains
Take another break?