As I speed-walk through the halls,

I encounter many different faces.

Posters plastered on the walls, 

Come to the game! Watch guys in tight pants run the bases!

But I do not care.

I would just like to get to French class.

I don't dress that bad, no need to stare.

I will stare right back; I don't mind being crass.

I smile and say hi to that girl I know,

But she pretends she didn't hear or see me.

I wish I had a cup of hot coffee to throw,

You'll regret that when you're my employee.

I do not care for high school, I just want to pass.

I do not care for other people, they walk too slow.

Move before I move you, I need to get to class.

If my point is not across, here it is now:

I do not care to mingle with my peers.

Let me through this packed crowd,

Please let me survive the Corridor of Tears.