The prof's wearing blue, her hair are unkept,
I'm sitting under her nose, so I haven't yet slept...
She talks about things, that make little sense,
Her accent is eastern & fishy, her voice is dense...
My thoughts are slowing, my eyelids gets heavy,
I dream of cross-country drives in an old school chevy...
From trade embargoes, my thoughts swim to sea,
I'm sailing across the waters, the breeze is as good as it can be...
There is a sea of sapphire all around my boat,
With my hands behind my head, I let life and time float...
My thoughts go round to the moon and back,
I snore in my seat, like an old man who has hit the sack...
She points at me and questions, she expects me to say,
I wake up and say "It depends" like a true MBA...
That was one close shave, she didn't ask any more,
Did she see my eyes shut? How loud was my snore?
I hoped the next lecture to be interesting, but it was not to be,
I sleep and fly to the mountains this time, and not the sea...
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