Like Cinderella when the clock strikes twelve
Math class has me screaming at the shelf
I’d rather be where the grass is greener
To be elsewhere that cleanses my mind like dry cleaners
Glasses come off my face for the board I don’t want to see.
My mind is a treasure and math does not have the key
My mind is melted onto the summer pavement
Everytime I enter the class its considered enslavement
Like Cinderella when the clock strikes 10:15
I desperately need it rid of me, need a vaccine.
Anywhere but math, four corners, two books on the shelves.