Whe the Day Was Young

In the customised prototypes All hands knew what to write The image to sketch The graffiti to inscribe We all knew the episodes to act And the theme was clear Clear enough, crystal clear But the innocent mouths only blabbed And wisacre parents designed Paths.....And they decided: Who follows which paths Capable or incapacitated They made doctors in a single night And an accountant is just a wink All became chartered in one week They decided in just a trance: Whom to be a surgeon amongst us They made lawyers with mere words Only with words of mouth.... And the innocent wards grew... Those made to work with pen took spades The ones made to wallow in black oils took wheels The ones to work with seeds took a clipper And everything turned up-side-down What about the handwriting? I mean the one on the prototypes? When the day was young Some even found it done But bought nothing from it. An accountant dying wretched A medical doctor with destiny in classroom A farmer ,now an auto mechanic They all got it wrong When the day was young. We designed career paths We gave it a follow-up Befitting follow-up,I mean We got it right Seemingly... Some got it wrong Some fell in-between They expect our woe. But ended in doom