Ah, yes. The way things used to be:
To crush on girls who hated me,
And major in delinquency,
Yet minor in infrequency.
Ah, yes. The angst, the agony —
To long for popularity
Yet know that wasn’t meant for me,
And languish in obscurity.
Ah, yes. You know, I had it good.
For though I felt misunderstood
I learned a sense of humanhood
Out on these bleachers made of wood
For sorrow, though, while deep and real
Is part of what it is to feel,
Then struggle on to do our best,
And one day stand, and think,