I wake up at 5:30 am
And my prepare myself for
Another day of community college.
I head strait for room 345B
And I sit in the back row.
Cause I'm already 15 minutes late.
It's only the first day, but already, I'm getting a really strange vibe.
There's just something very wrong about this place.
Everyone either has a goatee or messy hair
And they can't seem to dress themselves.
Why the hell did I sign up for creative writing?
I know that you worked really hard
But I don't care. I don't give a damn.
I don't wanna hear about your creative process.
I may seem like an a**hole, but I don't mind
It just means that much to me.
Not to have to hear about your creative process.
Why do you insist on telling everyone
About the back story of your poem
About the old man walking his dog in the park?
And how you drew on experiences from your past,
Like how your boyfriend dumped you.
And the first time that you got stung by a bee.
And how the old man represents the hamster
That you let die in the 5th grade
And the bench represents the first time you menstruated.
So I'm forced to stab myself in the ear
With my number 2 pencil.
I just can't take the pretentiousness anymore.
I know that you worked really hard
But I don't care. I don't give a damn.
I don't wanna hear about your creative process.
I may seem like an a**hole, but I don't mind
It just means that much to me.
Not to have to hear about your creative process.
I know you probably stayed up all night,
But still Beefy doesn't give a god damn.
I don't wanna hear about your creative process.
I may seem like an a**hole, but I'm used to it.
I just don't wanna hear.
About your stupid creative process.