I'm eighteen, and I don't know what I want.
Scoring high in procreation, got an A studying female anatomy.
We cheated on our math tests, we carved some dirty words on the desk.
The boy's got problems, the boy's got stress, the boy's got a .38 hidden in his desk.
He thinks about his teacher in his literary class, he's staring at her legs.
School's out forever, school's been blown to pieces.