Hanging around his life's only chapter
Delighted by the idea to chase after
Your mistake, your disgrace.
Smelling the naïve sheets of your notebook
Checking out your comb, your breath and
Your looks
Makes you crawl, in the hall
He ain't a teacher, he ain't a master
Powdering your words he plays the expert
One way lens, sour pen.
Staring at every stroke of your shy brush
Grinning he drives our notes in a small husk
Screams and shouts, sets your trial
Dear Professor what's the use in markin'
If what we do wrong is not important?
Blue and red lashings can't hurt our bodies
We're still on the run we're still on the run
We all make mistakes trying to do things
But what we do rights is more important
Dear Professor this is worth the effort
What's wrong with your mind what's wrong with your mind
Ain't no teacher, he'll never master
Scratches his know-all-nose, fake expert
Tiresome eye, black bow tie,
He thinks he has a desk full of credits
In every art display hangs his habit
Talkin' bad, about what you lack
Good morning Sir.,
Here's most important test for you to check
It was your own life that you've misgraded
Judging your own test the way you judged ours
Missin' now each point that you could count on
Zero's what you've got it was your last shot
You will fade away you will fade away.