School of Design

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