Once a year, a million kids
Quit going to a school
And they rent ugly hats and dresses
Because that’s just the rule.
Everybody’s name is read
And then the hats are thrown
And a million kids proceed to then
Forget what they had known.
Then a half a million kids
Go to school that costs a lot
Where they try to sleep with other kids
And, if they’re me, do not.
The other half get jobs at places
Where food is microwaved
Or join the “Guns and Tanks” patrol
And thus the world is saved.
This graduation from a child
To learned adult is great.
And now I must excuse myself;
For bed, I’m somewhat late.
The Daily Travesty 