The bell, which calls me hence to history
I dread it, the dull monotonous past,
The obscure theory of mystery,
The unknown time that happened last.
Oh! How hypocritical I feel there,
Studying histories of war and old,
When I have been lead to think, around here,
"One mustn't dwell on things already told."
Not only these but the teachers as well,
Their voices, one sound, one tone, so boring,
Voices with no passion, they only tell
My mind begins to wander, 'tis soaring.
However, reading is my obsession,
The allusions will soon come into my possession.
I dread it, the dull monotonous past,
The obscure theory of mystery,
The unknown time that happened last.
Oh! How hypocritical I feel there,
Studying histories of war and old,
When I have been lead to think, around here,
"One mustn't dwell on things already told."
Not only these but the teachers as well,
Their voices, one sound, one tone, so boring,
Voices with no passion, they only tell
My mind begins to wander, 'tis soaring.
However, reading is my obsession,
The allusions will soon come into my possession.
