Unhinged not quite confused a frail verdict I surmised
Was it a Sisyphean turmoil? Or way off wise?
On a treadmill, I’m, catechizing myself
Being pedagogue, a Goodwill on pelf
Empty-head, imbecile and topsy-turvy
I stumble across, each day, every day, a Paramount misery
Nit pupil solely I blame, there be some confrère
Being pedagogue, I know, karma is unfair
Being solo artist harder than being in One Direction: Tomlinson
Idyllic be no mankind, and nor I’d be,
A man so flawless is a man without glee
Solecism I admire, solecism edify, but not for me
Being pedagogue, I work for foreman, and only sublimity he plea
Toil my arse, I do, seven days a week
But minimum affluence they confer, my toil a squeak
Yet stature I hold, among all, the delight behold
Being pedagogue, I’m the unrefined gold
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