Even though I’m not in class.

It’s comforting weight, helps me deal

With Alvarez, Fuller and Thwaite.

And though supposedly silence reigns,

The library shrieks with painful brains.

As the papers rustle and the pens squeak,

The outlook appears at once so bleak.

A ‘D’ for you dear pupil of mine,

Sorry just not good enough this time.

As though I’d tried my hardest they thought,

With what little time I’d bought.

But a second stolen here and there,

Is like a miracle in the air.

Unleashing freedom in glorious time,

To give it back would be the crime.

But hey, its lesson time I hear,

Once again that desk I fear.

So many tales in one bitter room,

And hours alone in that class of doom.