The Tenure Itch
His indiscretions, you don't mind
He says your thoughts need for
But your forms not hard to find
These late night sessions, hes master still
Another lesson leaves you twisting to his will
Every night he comes and goes again
If it isn't right it isn't him
He makes corrections, you shut the blinds
You're talking less and less,
But the words aren't hard to find
His last suggestion, it makes you ill,
Still one more lesson leaves you twisting to his will
