Ember Nickel notes: Turns out there really is a contrabass bassoon, so earlier chapters have been edited to be more preposterous.
Where have all the last chairs gone?
The flip folders stacked up ten high?
The drumline failed at state, now accepting their fate,
You have no letter jacket and no pride.
Where has the transposing gone
As the motto gets the B-flat revised?
Lose your breath and try again, looks like you are on try ten
This match doesn't work, go back to your flute.
You move in a diagonal drill,
A pawn to someone else's will.
When the game is do or die, you care if you're playing high.
It is over when my team is down-which comes in the first quarter, it's too late.
This team is losing-"It's not my choosing"
This is over, it's too late,
I don't care for a long goodbye.
Where will all the martyrs go when we buy helmets, not horns?
And where will this team go but 0-and-8?
I'd rather play sub-contrabass bassoon
Then watch you acting like a goon
I liked you? I was a buffoon.
What's worse than being all alone is
"It is over when my team is down-which comes in the first quarter, it's too late.
This team is losing-"It's not my choosing"
This is over, it's too late".
She said, "I can't take this band, I hope your life is fun"
She said, "I can't take your love, what we had is all done."