Our Professor....

Oh, what a wonderful sweet day!
He is boring me yet I can´t leave
he takes little stabs at my soul
he is the Professor and I the student
how do I tell him to change his ways
that his pattern is doing me no good
and all that is written on my face
nothing but one word "boredom"

who shall save me from this grip
and set my feet free, to fly
for a rock is tied on my ankles
and its weight grips me like Iron
help! help! I am sinking fast
his voice, is the scream of an Owl
calling the witches out to dine
on their favorite meal of Human Blood
oh... who shall help, I the lost soul
and save my ship from its course
for in sword shall I fall and die
and his name, I think, I call not
for it´s poison to my beautiful heart
and a venom to my good tongue
the gods should not abandon me now
for I have done nothing wrong
to deserve this horrible way of Death!!!


Dedicated to all those students who are dying right now !!!