A Not-So-Fond Farewell

All stood in their lines

In silence.

Armed with nothing more or less

Than knowledge.

But many of them possesses a tongue

That can cut like Bordeaux steel.

Say goodbye to the regularity, my dears,

And to the regulations.

Say your farewells to

The rest of the bitches in blue jumpers

And too-short skirts.

Because one thing's for sure, my dears,

You're not at the top anymore.