• The chairs will eat our butts one day,
    then what will we do?
    Our butts be so far away,
    ...Probably made into stew.

    The desks will shift beneath our hands.
    The tables will overturn with rage.
    We'll be attacked with rubber bands,
    And books with many a page.

    Our pencils will fly through the air,
    And markers will stain our clothes.
    Glue will pour itself in our hair,
    We, of which, the classroom loathes.

    "Why is everything alive!?"
    The answer I wish I knew.
    The day the excorcists arive,
    Is the day a cat will moo.