When the last frost of winter has thawed
The men behind card tables out on the quad
Snow you under
With a colourful stack of brochures
They hand you a line like "The future is yours!"
Don't you wonder, aloud:

"Who gave you the right to plough the surface of my clear day?"
Oh I see
This must be Career Day

So the first flush of spring lets them know
That the seeds that were sown nearly 4 years ago
All have ripened
And for ten minutes under the scythe
You can earn 40 years of the privilege derived for a stipend
And desk
And that sharpened sense of the Kafkaesque you coveted and feared

Hey, young executives in waiting
There are forces operating
On the path you choose through the prairie wood
So shed your little red livelihood

Just because it's not in writing
Doesn't mean the wolves aren't biting
My, my, my what a big point of year
All the better to interview you with, my dear...

And they say that the dream's overgrown
Marxists and maoists, but mostly I've only known only fresh-faced recruits
Who graduated in Sunday suits
As Every-Last-One-Cheer Day
Rousing chorus for
50 or
More of those virtuosos
Who face the dawn scary [?] on
Career Day
Career Day
Career Day

Lyrics submitted by taxesmarch

Career Day song meanings
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