Math

Teacher, Teacher Don't be a preacher Just get to damn the point Mary, Mary You're quite contrary No one cares for standards Digits, numbers So ordinary You're tongue is French In riddles you speak Fiddles you seek In our grades Red marks everywhere Red from the demon You, you sit on a stool Looking, waiting Seeming no authority We work You fuss We talk You discuss Hands flying In the air You neglect in your face Walk past the hands Onto your computer screen Leaving the class alone Bookwork we don't know Thanks, fucking great Awaiting a slap of a test On the desk From no lesson she taught No we are fucked Counting down of being doomed From a math class One Two Three The end of the day People want to leave Oh wait no We stay For a stupid lecture