Sitting in a classroom minutes ticking by
Eyes getting heavy I let out an enormous sigh.
My hands moving quickly, my foot shaking fast.
“Oh my god this is torture, when will this time be past?”
I want to yell and scream at the top of my lungs.
But the lady in this room is like a catholic nun.
My mind is getting blurry, the hour standing still.
My rear is getting numb, they say that, that can kill.
Why oh me, oh me oh my,
That clock has not moved a moment has not gone by.
I should be in bed with my covers to my neck,
Or watching cartoons my life is a wreck.
But I have to be here from eight till noon.
And I have been here forever, wont it all be over soon.
“Look! I have a fever, I think I'm getting sick.”
If I could change the past, this day I would surly pick.
This is my last and will be the very final,
Because the back of this Chair, is digging in my spinal.
This is my Saturday and I'm in four-hour detention.
What I did I won't do again but that I will not mention.
