MC Paul Barman
Parents. Teachers. Little brothers and sisters in the bleachers. The fool who stole my [cowshin?] covered sneakers
Thanks for allowing me to see at today's graduation even if they won't let us wear sunglasses
What will we do when we have our own kids?
Give them twelve year bids just after the bars come off the cribs?
Work within the system? Make them listen to the darkest lecture
In the architecture of a prison full of purity-scarred security guards?
It’s sure to be hard. Recess! Rush hurriedly to the yard
Back-to-school nights are visitation rights and boredom is the warden. They’d be less ignored in private schools but can you afford them? And even then they’re fair to middling. They fiddled with inmates’ diddles and now they’ve got the Ritalin. A.D.D.: Another Dumb Doctor’s complicity. I’m about to Sub. Stitute teach? No, T.R.A.C.T
So when the states fail and they can’t make bail, we’ll hold a jailbreak/fake bake sale. Slow on the uptake? Well, below in this cupcake, there’s a file a mile wide with (St. Assisi’s SATs and) a reviled style guide
Cause and Effect
Five Paragraphs each get a topic sentence or “hook” for pop ascendance. So much plop, of course people stop attendance. This court loves to drop defendants. Allow me to leave an illusion dispelled. 98% of the graduates matriculate 'cause the other poor suckers not here got expelled. And ultimately they'll go to jail
We could rehabeducate with art but we ain’t got paints. You can take your budgetary constraints and fudge it up your hairy taints. That means you, Principal Asswipe. You were worse for class than sass or grass in a glass pipe
This isn’t hyperbole. It’s reality verbally
And we don’t want weekends
We need every day between
If you might die when you’re twenty
Then you’re old when you’re fifteen
I know! I’ll reopen the Black Mountain School
And bring back to us the abacus as a counting tool
Y’all know what time it is. This is my Bauhaus
We run around when it’s nice out and nobody kowtows
Happy Graduation Everybody! Ya-hoo!