His hands on my head

I'm scared that I can't relate
to those close to me.
Now, I just want to leave,
when we gather together.

People will line up in rows,
dress up in frowns.
They will always just look down--
down in a dirty, little hole.

His hands on my head,
I will just dread that
I never grew much taller than roof of my house.

There'll be a river of cry
flowing past you.
All my skin will turn blue.
You ought to hang me to dry.

His hands on my head,
his hands all over,
they cover my body but I’m much taller now.

His hands on my head.
His hands on my head.

A Tribute to the Convenience of the Snack Bar

cab 5ive: hey
monkeymc77: hey
monkeymc77: check this out
cab 5ive: whats up
monkeymc77: Alec Jacobson
Mary Clare McGregor
Hour 5 Brock
March 10, 2004

A Tribute to the Convenience of the Snack Bar

I told my teacher, "Ima gonna take a wizzle,"
But I really left to get some food at the snizzle bizzle.
Alas, behold, the snack bar's gate was closed.
But I understand they work a lot, putting snacks in rows.
French fries and curlies neatly artfully placed in baskets.
Had food been cold, dirty, unhealthy, sloppy, greasy, I'd have passed it.
Food here is worth unstable hours,
Take McD's and Taco Bell, I keep "the Round," I'll take ours.

monkeymc77: The closed gate makes me realize,
I waist life waiting for French fries.
Thank you, thank you, for being un-open,
I will now use this time studying for which I've been a hope'n.
I could learn French, or split the atom, or work on vocabulary words,
Instead of spending mom's cash on cheesy-cheese curds.
It makes me come to see that food's priced high.
The cookies soft, the pretzels worst, not even green on the fries.
This snack bar teaches me through not being open
To stay in school, don't skip, don't be dopin'.
So snizzle Bizzle, keep your hours unruly
I'll stay in class, I'll go hungry.