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Description
Ode to Pre-Calculus II: The Test

The seventh time, the seventh sign
the seventh hour of the sixth day,
The Judgment, the end;
It's Armageddon Day

Pencils at the ready
quivering in clamy hands,
Beads of anxiety trace the face
mocking a lover's caress

The instructions are given,
the four horsemen appear:
No talking
No cheating
No crying
Do your best

Our best is not good enough yet.

On into the hazy sun we ride,
our heads held high as if we know something.
The sky clouds and all Hell breaks loose,
White papers rain from above

The seventh time, the seventh sign
the seventh hour of our seventh test;
Like slaves we toil endlessly over numbers
harvesting, groping for any answer

Pain wracks our bodies, breaths hitch,
Realization dawns as the brains split;
Fooled again! Gah! We've been had!

It was supposed to be easy;
We were supposed to pass
but the only thing passing is the time

The loud, fast clicks of the bomb
Only 20 minutes left to our lives,
Pencils stall, nails scrape across wood;
Questions are asked but the door still won't open

The quiet screams of the dying students
echo off deaf ears!
The preacher comes, the teach comes;
The hour of judgment is near!

Five minutes now, five minute to pray...
Pray for anything that will save this day
The blood spills, staining the linen

The students wail and cry;
While a few bargain away
the rest just die

"TIME'S UP!" shouts the horseman,
the paladin of equations;
Sinking into the dark,
the students fade embittered and broken

"Try, try again" says the seventh one,
the son of Pythagoras's plight;
And then like the test he disappears
words echoing into the night:

If at first you don't succeed, you fail.

Description
Ode to Pre-Calculus II: The Test

The seventh time, the seventh sign
the seventh hour of the sixth day,
The Judgment, the end;
It's Armageddon Day

Pencils at the ready
quivering in clamy hands,
Beads of anxiety trace the face
mocking a lover's caress

The instructions are given,
the four horsemen appear:
No talking
No cheating
No crying
Do your best

Our best is not good enough yet.

On into the hazy sun we ride,
our heads held high as if we know something.
The sky clouds and all Hell breaks loose,
White papers rain from above

The seventh time, the seventh sign
the seventh hour of our seventh test;
Like slaves we toil endlessly over numbers
harvesting, groping for any answer

Pain wracks our bodies, breaths hitch,
Realization dawns as the brains split;
Fooled again! Gah! We've been had!

It was supposed to be easy;
We were supposed to pass
but the only thing passing is the time

The loud, fast clicks of the bomb
Only 20 minutes left to our lives,
Pencils stall, nails scrape across wood;
Questions are asked but the door still won't open

The quiet screams of the dying students
echo off deaf ears!
The preacher comes, the teach comes;
The hour of judgment is near!

Five minutes now, five minute to pray...
Pray for anything that will save this day
The blood spills, staining the linen

The students wail and cry;
While a few bargain away
the rest just die

"TIME'S UP!" shouts the horseman,
the paladin of equations;
Sinking into the dark,
the students fade embittered and broken

"Try, try again" says the seventh one,
the son of Pythagoras's plight;
And then like the test he disappears
words echoing into the night:

If at first you don't succeed, you fail.