In the world of ting-a-ling
Where the music plays
And my thought's do ring

I make the weather
My thought is my write
Not the experimentation of tether
By your thought for the night

High school was fun
But no life for me
I graduated at six
For the higher degree

For the more pastel shades
Of humanity
In order to weather the wrong

Of little power trip people
And the tone of their tongue
And the stench of their wind
When they let off a big one

I'm a grown up kind of girl
Who knows the wrong of the right
And tripping back to high school
Doesn't bring the Light