I see my Dad come home.
I hear my Mommy call.
I watch them read the letter.
I see their faces fall.
I may be only three
But I am not a fool.
I've just been rejected by
The Riverside Nursery School.
I'm bad, bad, bad, bad.
What am I gonna do?
I'm fine in a sandbox,
But I choke in an interview.
Bye bye, future.
Bye bye, dream.
Bye bye, happy.
Bye bye, self-esteem.
My epitaph will be:
«He hit his peak at three
And then took eighty years to die.»
Bye bye, future,
Bye bye.
Oh, no. Another letter!
Must be from my safety school.
I'm breaking out in hives.
I can't control my drool.
They're reading. (Read read read.)
They're talking. (Say say say.)
They're laughing. (Oh oh oh!)
I think I'm on my way.
What a proud boy am I!
Miss Walker's Play Group!
Hello, future.
Hello, clout.
Old Boy Network,
That's what school's about.
And years from now, when Time and Newsweek
Interview my sitter,
She'll say, «Early failures hurt him, yes,
But did not leave him bitter.»
It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.
The sun is out and life is good.
Hello, future, hello.
(Sigh)