In a crowded machine room, UNIX dreams in my head
Quiet sounds of computers running perl, awk, and sed.
Sitting at the machines, I saw just OCF staff
I grew very dizzy and my dreams closed in, I had to go back to class. 
There my account was created, I heard the console bell
And then I thought to myself; this could be heaven or this could be hell.
Then they pulled up a prompt, and showed me the way
I logged in and I read motd, I thought I saw it say:

Welcome to the thankless job of sm, you are wacko, right? (you are wacko, right?)
there's no end in sight. There's not enough disk for the thankless job of sm 
Any time of year (any time of year) you'll find the sm here.

His mind is GNUly compiled. She's got the staff mail blues
They need a lot of new, new staff, some they can trust with root 
How they work in the office, keys flying fast
Some work to learn UNIX, some struggle with bash.
So I emailed the sm, "Please let me approve."
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen ninety two."
And still the users are ytalking from far away
paging you while in the middle of pine, so you can hear them say...

Welcome to the thankless job of sm, you are wacko, right? (you are wacko, right?)
there's no end in sight.  They're setting up Sparcs in their thankless job of sm
What a nice surprise (what a nice suprise) the new machines are nice.

There was a general meeting, the old sm was so nice
He noted, "We are all just prisoners here, of our own device."
In the open walk-in lab, the staff fight for good seats
They kick and cuss at apollos, but they just can't kill the beasts
Last thing I remember, I was logging out once more
I had to find the passage back to the life I had before.
"Relax," said the BoD, "They are programmed to receive.
You can log out any time you like, but you can never leave..."