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Every weekday morning when I wake up,
I feel like I'm going
to up-chuck.
It isn't because of sour milk or PMS,
Or
even because I look like a mess.
It's because of an evil and dimly
lit place
That smells even worse than a horses balls after a race.
It's called Lowell High School
And let me tell you,
It's about as cool as drowning in a
Piss-filled swimming
pool.
Not to be mean, or judgmental or cynical.
It's
just that this darn place is so goddamn tyrannical!
The teachers,
they strut like they own this and that.
They're so f***ing proud
To flunk students at the drop of a hat!
The hallways are
crowded
Old, dusty, and larded
Not to mention that
they smell like an elephant farted,
But worse off that that
Passing time feels like you're under attack!
A punch!
A kick!
I'll kill you, you hick!
The students
all yell as they race through their hell
Tired and hot, they all
just want to plop.
But they cannot be late!
It would
be a great mistake!
The teachers will yell and scream damnation.
Reminding us all a little of Satan.
Then, these teachers,
(Oh I do hate them so)
Become stuck in a hitch
And
then start to bitch
That back in the days we'd have been
Hit with a long and hard switch!
And the children
So
hungry
Go to lunch with empty tummies
Even though
they'd all rather have hits
Of Jin Rummy.
To the
cafeteria they march,
With unenthusiastic little hearts
To eat great big scoops
Of unidentified and strangely colored
goop.
Then dejected and grossed out
Some find bushed
in which to make-out.
The rest they sit and gossip
Unsure of how this will profit.
But soon,
Oh too soon,
It is time for class
Where everything is harsh, rude,
and crass.
And everyone would rather be smoking some really good
grass.
Where the textbooks are heavy
And the teachers
are petty
Where clocks move like snails
And all anyone
wants to do is bail.
This is the whole day until three-thirty.
Our school once put on a production of
Bye Bye Birdie.
That didn't make to much sense
And was really random.
But I don't much care
I was just throwing a tantrum.
And now my rhyme is nearly complete.
I truly hope that
you found it neat.
One day, I 've thought
I'll come up
with a plot
To blow to pieces that retched stinking mass
In which they hold something call CLASS.
Well I hold something
too
Dirty Lowell High School.
It's call spirit.
And believe you and me,
You asswipes ain't never getting near
it.
So take it up the rear!
And remember my jeer,
Cause life just won't be the same next year.
At the most
TOTALLY uncool
Lowell High School.
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