Yeah, I said it,

Yeah, I believe it, gotta value it,

I don't know, contracts in the sand?

I'm not sure, eleven strokes, on someone's keyboard,

Maybe a song, maybe the good word, are the speakers on,

Maybe a pre-school teacher,

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Maybe an eleventh grade math teacher,

Now we're flowing, skateboarding, rollerblading,

How do I always have internet?

Data, my friend,

Living in a first class country,

Second class?

Who said there was a second class?

Are you calling me, second,

Calling me eleventh,

Still in school?

Still working?

Bridge building, noodle cudoodling, bear cuddling, freeloading—

Piece of crap!

5-0! Run for it,

For first place,

For the grime, and the grind,

Mostly the grime,

Waiting,

Always waiting,

For a fresh taste,

For eleventh place,

For somewhere private,

Somewhere, lavish?

Hmmm,

I think I missed my class,

Were you ready for it?

Don’t worry, love,

We adore you for it,

We want more of it,

Ah, teacher, you’ve come.