Listening to music at half past eight,
Wishing that tomorrow would come and
stop the wait,
Because tomorrow is when I leave
Lifting bags with one big "Heave"!,
If that's how you spell it.
Well anyway, Christmas is coming
While grades come too and show
Whether I will pass or fail or
Whatever will happen between me
and my school.
So I write to only say that
I feel like I'm fixin-to-die-rag,
and Country Joe and the Fish,
and many more, too.
And a girl smokes three cigarettes
during exams for nerves and more
during class for munchies. And
stomachs gurgle and growl with
the smell of ciggies. And
1:00 comes and you eat.
Yum! Yum! and get sick.
So, where is my love at the
train station or the airport
or the bus terminal or where?
She's home on the phone
talking to a boy about
Friday night. And so it goes...
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