It was a student-full day;
My hung pleats gown--
I'd put that raiment robe on,
Be high-fivin'.
The geek I spied,
He was seldom grinnin',
Sprinted up my way;
Guy's perspirin'.

Yeah, runnin' came the dean:
An F I'm gettin'--not B.
Said, "You're flunkin' history;
Graduatin' you won't be!"
Guy's robbin' me of dream.

I felt so mad,
My anger nearly palpable
I ripped: "You a$$hole,
Rank scum and swine!"
I'd shriek away, like,
"Your pate ain't scalpable;
It's a balding dome. . .oily shine!"

Yeah, runnin' down the dean:
"You F'ing old SOB,
Jerkoff on a hiccup spree,
Gonads just like little beads!"
I'm runnin' down the dean.

I droned on,
Razzed, "This guy ain't smart,
A putz and mental clown,
Worse than a mime.
This chump's no good,
Wastrel, lout, and toad;
He picks his nose
Then on boogers dines!"

Yeah, rubbin' out the dean:
Reverie that comes to me
Wishing that he's history
Can't do that. . .recrudesce screeds:
I'm running down the dean:

"Screw you! Screw you! Screw you! . . ."