[Opening]

(Chortles)

This is 'I'm Not A Sheep: Part Two' (Bleat! A Bleat, bleat!)
Part One was lost forever, but we won't forget it. (A bleat, bleat!)
Yo, yo (A bleat, bleat!)

(Chortles)

I'm not a sheep (A bleat, bleat! A bleat, bleat! A bleat, bleat!)
I'm not a sheep, not a sheep

(Bleating continues)

[Verse 1]

Hey, hey!
I’ve always been kind of a troublemaker, I have
It happens when a boy grows up and doesn’t know his dad
He wants everyone to feel his pain
He disrespects authority and illness he does feign
No onе is there to guide and tеach him his respects
So labels, stigmas and problems are what he gets
The cycle propagates itself, it’s all but done
The same web my dad got trapped in is spun
For another kid in another town it’s true
Educate our people bout this problem we must do
The school system’s failed him, won’t let him have his fun
Treats him like trouble because he won’t pay attention
The truth is, he’s just a kinesthetic learner
If he was an engine, boy he would be an afterburner
He’s got to be moving, he learns when he’s in flight
My God, my boy, so much so do I understand your plight
Now skip forward a year, I was in the first grade
A problem, I was growing, a huge fuss my teacher made
One day she grabbed my chin and shook it hard
Whatever made her mad, she pulled my card
I don’t remember why she did what she did to me
It must be not, be not, be not, not be important cause I erased that memory
Either that or it was traumatic as all hell
The stories of that day my mind will never let me tell
Except I’m transcending that limitation
Of psychologal ---
[Verse 2]

Psychological repression, through creation
So tonight through song, I will fix my mind
I’m jumping in a time machine, hitting rewind
I’m standing in my room on North 199th
Preparing to commit a cold, calculated crime
I’m looking in the mirror, don’t recognize who I see
Who the fuck is it looking back at me?
Choi, Harris and Klebold, too
I bend down and lace up my combat boots
I stand up breathe and stretch my hands back
In a cacophony, my fingers snap
I breathe, I’m psyched, I’m ready for this shit
This is my moment and I know that you’re feeling it
Disgraced and so sick of all the hate
Motherfucking bullies about to get a taste
Of their own medicine, no more time to waste
So I’m slipping the balaclava over my face
Other options are there, but I’ve made my decision
Of my own volition
Loading the gun with Grandpa’s ammunition
This story, a reverse-engineered admission
Of fantasies suppressed of fear of contrition
I have an admonition
This tale will serve as an admonition
Of future collisions
For anyone who crosses this apparition
A yearbook omission
The child soldier on his mission
Committing sedition
Against the unjust inquisition
Of his past academicians
A victim of attrition
In the school system
But he postures up and takes position
A tactician
Getting his revenge
In the now through the when, let it begin
He walks up to the door, gathers his composure
The moment has come to put himself over
He kicks the door once, but it doesn’t budge
The halls outside echo with a deafening thud
No element of surprise, he cannot afford
His next move to be ill-advised anymore
The rage inside builds with steaming vexation
His brows tighten and he convulses with frustration
He leans back and holds his breath
Puts his hand in a fist and beats down on his chest
(Chortles)

[Close]

He stomps his left foot into the door and lets out a roar
Then throws his right foot back into the door
It swings open and he walks in