Aight...una storia molto triste, triste triste
Our teacher thought it was narcolepsy so she bought you a diet Pepsi
She thought you were pathetic, wanted you kinetic like Wayne Gretsky on a jetski
But you downed it, let out a great big (grevky?) and went straight back to sleep.
Is it the late hours that you keep?
By the time you were a soph*more the teachers began to scoff more
Don't fall asleep in school!
All you achieved was drool
And face imprints on your forearm
You know you did yourself much more harm
Than to me or to your teachers.
Graduation, you're in the bleachers
Not graduating was no deterrent,
Now in the bleachers you wish you weren't.
And look: that was just how you messed up your high school years. A few years later, it was even worse. Let me tell you about it:
You took thalidomide, your baby's arm solidified into a flipper
The father is a stripper.
He didn't want to marry,
He a**umed you would miscarry.
His name was Harry.
And another thing that's scary,
He sports a bulge (of sorts?)
Men pa** him (5 dollari?)
And he pulls down his red shorts
And the patrons, they stop talking
'cuz they're barfing on his co*k ring
That's some boyfriend that you've got
Now you have a crippled tot
You choked it with leiderhosen
He got a stroke, now his feet are frozen
He can't move without a ride
Mercy infanticide failed
Normally, you'd go to jail
But every foster parent in the world
Looked at your son and then they hurled
Your judge wishes you'd succeeded
'cuz your son was born defeated.
And that is a true story. Well, reflective of a true story, anyway.
This beautiful girl, her name was [CENSORED], in fifth grade she used to draw horses. Now she's a dominatrix and she shaved off her eyebrows. I just don't understand.