It's Patrick (Welcome to the Schoolyard Freakshow)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Song Lyrics  |  House: Booksie Classic
Another song "written" by my character Patrick Turner.

Submitted: June 30, 2015

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Submitted: June 30, 2015

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It’s Patrick (Welcome to the Schoolyard Freakshow)

 

 
(Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, settle in for one hell of a ride)
 

 

Hey, hey, hey, you! (Hey you!) Yeah, I’m talking to you
I think you’re gonna have to go back to primary school, or maybe even nursery
Cause lately you’ve been saying my name the wrong way
It’s PATRICK, not Fatrick, so hurry on back to your crayon pack and boo-hoo in your mama’s skirt!
 

 

Welcome to the Schoolyard Freakshow!
Please, collect your yard name and label at the door on your way in
Everyone sits under assigned notations here, fitted into pigeon holes of monotonic simi-larity 
There’s no room for colourful feathers or a peace sign, but hey! At least we’ve got a mountain of makeup smeared over the bathroom mirrors and graffiti across the stalls! 
 

 

Paint your face and tuck in your shirt, watch your weight and wear your skirt perfectly straight
They say ‘hello and welcome to secondary school, it’ll be the best time of your life', ah-ah-hah! Watta lie, watta lie! C’mon, c’mon, we know it’s a li-i-ie!
So stop pretending and fix this problem already! Open your godamned eyes and see us for the first time!
We’re broken and battered, bloody and bruised, just shoddy little puppets out to be abused
 

 

I’d like to complain to you about your illiteracy some more, but I gotta get to the back of the line, so see ya next time
Mandy’s up next, wonderin why ya called her Handy
Oh-oh, oh-oh, better sit down, this one’s gonna be a fight! 
(You got that damn right, it’s a helluva fight!)
Run, run, run, through the corridors, chant it out loud!
 

 

F-f-fight! F-f-fight! F-f-fight it right now!
 

 

Welcome to the Schoolyard Freakshow!
Please, collect your yard name and label at the door on your way in
Everyone sits under assigned notations here, fitted into pigeon holes of monotonic simi-larity 
There’s no room for colourful feathers or a peace sign, but hey! At least we’ve got a mountain of makeup smeared over the bathroom mirrors and graffiti across the stalls! 
 

 

Ah, damn, there you go again! What’ve I told you so m-m-many times?
It’s PATRICK, not Fatrick, so get you godamned facts right before you go pointing fingers like you know best
(Cause you sure as hell don’t)
Shake it, shake it, now throw it, throw it, hope to god you bre-ak it!
Doesn’t matter what, just grab something and snap, bend, shatter and rip it!
 

 

Oh-oh, oh-oh
Oh-oh, oh-oh
Time to strut our stuff on this monochromic dance floor
Throw a match into the glitter and let it r-r-rain down, r-r-rain down 
Now sew your heart to your sleeve and show it to me (but don’t let the others see)
Dance, dance, we’re breaking apart to the ringing of school bells
 

 

Write it on all the mirrors, a message to the down hearted girls 
Scribble it across the changing room walls ‘hey girl, you’re looking beautiful today, just like you were yesterday and the day before that, so keep your head up, love' 
And tear down all the mirrors, throw them out the top floor windows and watch as they explode into pieces
If it’s not enough, we ramp it up a notch and write it across the bathroom doors and slap post-its on the lockers, we’ll keep on going like this till we’re drowning in them if that’s what it takes to soothe the undeserved heart aches
 

 

The girls in the cliques strut like they’re the real queen bee, but that ain’t gonna last in college, girl, you’ll get ground to a pulp and dumped like last week’s pizza 
So maybe shut up and stop demanding respect you haven’t earned, cause it ain’t easy to be confident when you don’t like your own body
In the end though, we’re all nothing to each other until we can see into the heart sewn to our sleeves 
So break out the needle and thread already and get busy
 

 

Welcome to the Schoolyard Freakshow!
Please, collect your yard name and label at the door on your way in
Everyone sits under assigned notations here, fitted into pigeon holes of monotonic simi-larity 
There’s no room for colourful feathers or a peace sign, but hey! At least we’ve got a mountain of makeup smeared over the bathroom mirrors and graffiti across the stalls! 
 

 

Lately I’ve been going back and forth in front of my mirror, taking a good hard look at myself 
I don’t like what I see, but I can’t help but know that this is me!
You should do the same, stare into the looking glass till you look back at yourself and see the burning bright light inside is all you
All yo-o-o-ou, all yo-o-o-ou, all yo-o-o-ou, all you


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