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      Some days were missed, ten kegs at Albers   And Albers turns into gear and hours become years   Well 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 their not gonna mix   So please can our dying brains, take another break