Teenage Dirtbag (by Wheatus)
I'll leave high school some day in the distance,
but I can't resist this, thus my insistence
on sitting so close she could smell the dirtbaggery.
Inch the desk forward, what could the matter be?
Sadder she's sobbing than she seems herself.
About to put voice to it but it's suddenly twelve,
and the bells ring, squelching my chivalry.
Who am I kidding? See all past activity
for evidence that I don't ever talk to her at all.
And the clean-cut BF's there in the hall,
already arm around her. How many bells get rung?
How many young lads get sprung off of Noelles?