under the desk

I'm at my hometown high school
I am in the eleventh grade
I'm here in trig class, hiding
under the desk and I'm afraid
all the students, all the staff
are afraid and shaking, too
I can see the teacher
doing all she's been taught to do
but it's not working
it's not working

we've all been through the drill before
but none of this seems real
why would anybody ask
what their jackets might reveal
but when we heard the gunshots
we knew there was something going on
there was someone out there
who did not belong
nothing's working
it's not working

it started at the second lunch
thank God we were in class
I thought
until I heard the footsteps
down the hall and coming fast
they were entering each classroom
shooting open every door
I pray and plead in silence
that they won't want any more
but it's not working
nothing's working

and as we hear the squeaking
of sneakers from the hall
I think about my parents
and my sister, but most of all
I pray to my savior
I beg of my God
and then we hear
the turning of the doorknob
but it's not working
it's not working
it's not working
nothing's working