Its a song i sing in my mind,
A rhythm I’m versed with,
A tune i know that fits the grind,
A melancholy myth.
Every morning when that bell goes,
Stepping shoes pace quick,
Into the classroom that bestows,
Wisdom in us while the books trick.
Chitter-chatter surrounds the walls,
At times the corridors hear our echo,
Like a thunderbolt the teacher falls,
Terming us a menace in Art Deco.
Today when life cycle repeats,
We see our journey through those benches,
Where once we endured countless repeats,
And now the next solely trenches.