Oh no, it’s literature,
Otherwise known as sh*tliture,
It’s really bad and boring,
So I often end up snoring.
There are some good bits,
Like how people are often off “sick”,
The others really aren’t that nice,
Unlike something tasty like rice.
A DVD about the gothic,
Is really dull and I wish I could stop it,
One thing we read is something of Carter’s
It’s strange and stupid for starters!
I’m now staring into the stars,
Whilst munching on a bar of mars,
Sitting in a room of girls,
They are certainly not as beautiful as pearls.
I don’t think anybody’s listening,
I’d rather be in science doing some distilling,
Looking as some posters,
They are less attractive than some toasters.
Everyone thinks I’m swell,
But this is my idea of hell.
Looking at the clock,
Think it’s stopped,
I feel as if this lesson,
Is more like a torture session!
By the end of the hour I feel old,
And what is more I’m really cold,
This lesson has been mis-sold,
Like a piece of bread with some mould.
Lost in this room like in fog,
I’m left up saying “Oh my God,
I’ve finally seen the light,
For this lesson is truly sh*te!”