ODE AGAINST CONSTRUCTION:
You and your plastic yellow hats
you think you're so cool
holding smashproof pickaxes
demolishing our school
Your fancy little tractors
or whatever the hell they are
that park horizontally
depriving some poor car
Your big piles of dirt
Cameramen galore
"look, now I'm famous"
that's all our newspaper's good for
Your bricks that resemble
cheap styrofoam
If laid on right the first time
some poor hobo'd have a home
Paid by the hour?
And we pay with time
The grassfields of summer
Now coated with grime
I don't need a ceiling
I don't need a floor
just 180 quick days
And nothing more
So stop with your striking
So stop with your paint
My graduation date
Is looking more and more faint
So stop with your brunch breaks
So stop with your fun
Because I'm not having any
Till your work is long done
Please! Hand me a chisel
Or that truck type of thing
And you'll see something awful
That I tell you, will sting
I'll strive for simplicity
I'll strive, too, for speed
I'll prove that talent
Is not what you need
My theory about high school
Is the sooner begun
The sooner it ends
So of course it will run
To the latest date ever
The year that I care
Grr, you and your plastic hats
I wish you weren't there.
