How I wish to slam my head,
Against the mahogany of my desk,
Due to studying the montonous dead,
Which should be laid to rest.
I have a most specific desire,
One to yell and scream--
Another to throw myself within a fire,
To escape this boring regime.
Your voice lulls me to sleep,
The subject bland and charred,
The price I pay is quite steep,
For listening to a bag of lard.
I cannot wait for next semester,
To nurse injuries my brain might fester.