The punkest girl I knew in school,

Yeah, she sure thought that she was cool.

It doesn’t matter too much anymore,

But the effects are too strong to ignore.

She was five foot one,

I thought her life was fun,

But I was just a nerd,

This is so absurd!

One night in mid-October,

We weren’t exactly sober,

We were high as hell,

Dressed as pirates and groupies, well!

‘‘Twas Halloween night,

High as a kite,

The clock was six minutes fast,

My eyes were red and glassed.

The punkest girl I knew in school,

Yeah we sure thought we were cool,

She liked rap, I liked punk,

But we were very, very drunk!

December rolled by, Christmas time,

Instead of carols, we did some crime!

Twenty-Twenty-Five came soon,

We celebrated in the afternoon.

Underneath the bridge,

We felt ready to raid someone’s fridge,

With two pipes and a bottle of perfume,

It was late, we would assume.

In the basement of the church,

My stomach would lurch,

In the bathroom, we were having fun,

But not like a nun!

Yeah, the punkest girl I knew in school,

We all thought that she was cool.

Suspended ‘cause she got caught,

All the boys thought she was hot.

Listening to Black Sabbath and Silverchair,

Not a care,

NOFX screams, AC/DC at the church,

Behind a dumpster we would perch.

In corduroy, flannel, leather,

The February gloom was the weather,

The chess-playing Asian girl

Asked me why I had to hurl.

Now, March is here,

Four months left in this school year,

Our lungs are black, green-leaf imprinted brains,

Through yellow-white skin, you can see the blue veins.

Yeah, the punkest girl I knew in school,

We are really, really cool…

But it’s not all it’s made out to be,

It kinda sucks, you see?

The punkest girl I knew in school,

We talk to guys, bully nerds, think we’re cool,

We drink a lot,

Smoke some pot.

The punkest girl I knew in school,

340 words of poetry just to prove I’m cool,

Yeah, I hate the world, let it be anarchy,

Behave unmannerly?

The punkest girl I knew in school,

I’ll write some poetry ‘cause your cool,

Play the Misfits on demand.

This doesn’t rhyme,

But who cares?