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 And 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