Algebra 1

The clock's hand points to a number after five

That's Algebra class calling

I'm unlucky to be alive

And I wish time could start stalling

A creepy old professor

Whose stare could make anyone feel lesser

Escorted us in

And told his lesson to begin

But students talk

And they walk

Then in a burst of the opposite of silent

Came a difficult assignment

"Page 192, I want that through!

That goes for all of you!"

But there's another but

No student would make their mouth up-shut

He booms, "You don't need to give your conversation a fin,

Because you're not turning it in!"

This makes the class burn into laughs

And I just struggle to plot a line graph

At last, I see zc 12y + 1

Pencils feverishly skid across paper

Apparently this is no fun

I c y they call "Big Al" the mental shaper

Upon my final equations

I plan to retreat

After giving friends explanations

I accept my defeat

Again, the clock's hand points to a number after five

That's Algebra class ending

I finish my work—into park, out of drive

And I'm lucky I survive