Metamorphosis

We were in great pleasure, it deserves some praise We play, we love in our early days Those days were touching And our hearts were filled nothing but joy We use to color the neighbours wall And show our painting skill The very name we paint is existing still In classroom we studied nothing but mischiefs We have launched many paper missiles To our teachers head We did mockery in absence of our teacher Dance, sing, and play And show our professionalism in mischief Those pleasing joy excites other Such a retrospect of our own delight Such pleasure we will not obtain Our innocent sweet simple years Will not turn again