Bova Was Right
The wheel of time has spoken and I must into exile
I do not know the charges for there was no proper trial
My Lady cannot follow me; she cannot leave her shrine
The letters that she wrote relieve this constant pain of mine
The poets and philosophers cannot match her finesse
She studied when the Universe was newly manifest
My essays they return her love in every line and verse
Her inspiration sacred as a 2:1 or a 1st
The notes that we exchange in every scholarly advance
Are the fire of my megido and the aegis of my grantz
This exile it is arduous, it almost seems to lengthen
Every time I check the clock and count the minutes of my sentence
I'll head the revolution when the banners are unfurled
The faculty have had it when we take over the world
And I'll shatter the foundations of your malefic regime
And I'll sentence to deletion those recesses-inbetween
And I'll worship at her temple when my learning's at a peak
The reverse of all my exile; revelation for six weeks
With my Celestial Vice Chancellor, my omniscient Dean
Lady Academia, my goddess and my queen