The time canters slowly onward,
Filtering out confidence and ability
Like a Grand Prix.
But no grand prize is at stake here,
No bottle of champagne,
Just the recognition of six letters
Which, in the end, are nothing but
The keys to the Lotus of life.

Frustrated sighs of anguish ring out,
Frustrating the frustrated.
The corners of wandering eyes
Are kicked by anxious swnging legs,
And the tap-tapping of pencils
On rocking desks scrawled with legends
Bring memories of favourite songs
Whose lyrics aren't Simple Harmonic

The distant plink-plonk of pianos
Stab the mind like a compass point
Provoking incensed frustration.
SHUT THE FUCK UP! I'M TRYIN' TO THINK!
But restraint plus composure is
The most important formula now
As the time gallops onward.
Not long to go - the end is near.

Noisy bodies, hungry bodies
Signify the receeding time.
Emptied of knowledge thy're hungry for food.
Defiant growls boom through the hall,
Like the chime of the bells as they slip on the noose -
There's still time for that royal pardon,
But no - "Stp Writing now, please."
ARGGHHH! Thank God that's over!