Old taped fans running,
The scent of sweat fills the hot air.
The burning sun,
Concentrated through the glass,
Roasting us like a turkey in an oven.
The heavy sighs of bored students,
And the sneaky whispers.
Oh why did I misbehave and get grades?
Old taped fans running,
The scent of sweat fills the hot air.
The burning sun,
Concentrated through the glass,
Roasting us like a turkey in an oven.
The heavy sighs of bored students,
And the sneaky whispers.
Oh why did I misbehave and get grades?