We practice the devil’s favorite toils

In the eyes of religion and ignorance

Reaping flavorless fruits for future spoils

For the future will hold our recompense

We enter these gates as a parade of fools

In the presence of highly educated gods

To take with us everlasting ideas and tools

To build our empires out of uneducated clods

To the grind we slave, to the sky we reach

Our callused hands will someday grab the stars

Beating our brains with knowledge and all they teach

So that we may someday bare our academic scars