Sitting in a chair
Listening to a clock that isn�t there.....
Tick, tick, tick, tick.

Head held firmly in hand
Listening to this bland,
Boring, droning teacher.

The words all blend into a monotone hum,
Wonder to myself, "Why the hell did I come?"
I haven�t slept in so long
I almost forget how,
God I wish I could remember now.

I don�t think I can look much more
At her face that she keeps in the jar by the door.
Is this my teacher or Eleanor Rigby?

Throw down my pen, ready to be sick.
I have to get out of here.....
Tick, tick, tick.