You can always tell a middle-class doctor
From the way he straightens his tie
They have a calling – some to be doctors some to be priests
Some to be lawyers, some to be generals
It begins as a noble cause
It all begins with a desire to do good
Until the eagles come with iron bars in their claws
And start dropping them all around their houses
All night long,
They listen to the clanging iron bars as they hit the floor
They can be the most innocent of people
But when faced with the working class
They become introspect; they step back
They follow the unwritten rules of class
Thank you, doctor, thank you, priest
Thank you, lawyer, thank you general
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