Academia

 

Looking for higher ground 

None to be found

Just that rotting corpse

In the library

 

How you wanted fame

You'd settle for a name

Extended by letters

And small salary

 

Researching drinking habits 

Of that syphilis-infested idiot

You mark quality time 

With his descendants

 

Citing your lover's work

She won't touch you with a fork

holding history in your hands,

It says “nothing”

 

Drinking with your friends

Starting another band

Putting on the show 

With the grant money