Из альбома: My Son, the Box
+The Dropouts' March
(No more pencils, no more books,
No more teachers' dirty looks
Dropouts! dropouts! Yeah team!)
On, dropouts, down the field,
Ain't we the national shame
Cheer for our fun-loving breed,
Who can't hardly read,
Or write our name
March, dropouts, backward march
Ain't we a tragedy
Leave us unite, and fight, fight, fight
For good old stupidity
Duh!
Duh!
Drop, dropouts, out of school,
Proud of the will to fail
You won't find us in the school halls
Look in the pool halls, or in jail
Long may our colors wave,
Sons of the black and blue
Light-hearted chaps
Who steal hubcaps,
We've got nothing else to do
Ignoramus there you are,
Sitting in your hopped-up car,
And your brains ain't up to par,
And your ears stick out too far
Go, dropouts, go and buy,
One comic book or two
You need some rest and enjoyment,
Your unemployment check is due
Soon, dropouts, very soon,
You'll wear a different hat
Soon you will be in the Army
Just try dropping out of that!