The inferno faltered at the canopy
Of the trees
Seemingly on wings of fire
And the sunlight danced
Just forget it
The trees don't fall with talk of fruit virginity
Push and shove that snake down your throat
And the things and objects and the proud professor
Puckered up and said, how would like to **** your own teacher
Sir, my lord is no preacher
Son, there's no telling who you'll be naming
In this crept, decrepit detention that was held by a forbidden book perfect for modern times and fame
All might say, a son of a preacher man is tame
But, this was just an ember waiting to die out
Losing its oxygen needed for propulsion in academic excellence
The detention was a must
A Freudian complex as a result of veritable desires
I must say, I'm not sure that ******* younger tool that kept me waiting forever
I wonder where is the fiery innocence that gets in on the drama
The places and the traces of which show some youthful respite
All fall into despair and faux pas moments with some strangers
Of the night, and that is why I prefer keeping the darker side to myself
For people who can embrace it
Preface that with the factotum who keeps watching you, in and out of the detention center.