I sit in geometry class,

Hanging on no words, not even trying to pass.

My eyelids have a heavy weight;

They don't even care that this next theorem may decide my fate.

To transform a polygon into a square?

Frankly, Mr. Collins, I don't really care.

And come test day,

All I can do is pray.

The teacher tells, "Test over unit five."

Oh, my dear Mrs. Wott, I'm barely alive!

Look at that construction!

Oh, dear me, it'll be my destruction.

Oh! It's so simple, all you have to do is make this triangle right.

I can't, you see, it's putting up a fight!

Look at that proof!

His exact words to me were, "It's only 25 steps, you big goof!"

And When I turn my test in to the teacher,

I pray that when it's handed back she won't be a preacher.

My eyes can't beleive the perfect score!

Another hundred, oh, what a bore.

I need the thrill,

Of acing a geometry class on what I’m sure isn’t skill.

So let me get my high,

Not on drugs, but on pi.