Walking down the corridor
An hour for thrice a week
Is a burden to endure
Going to the witch lair
Complaints are all can be heard
"Stand straight, bow down your heads"
First sound of her lips
She talks like she knew everything
Telling things that she doesn't know
Words from her mouth aches a sting
Her gestures make us laugh
Her opinions contradict the present vision
Just the presence of her irritates us
And everything of her pisses the whole
~天使
