| Far behind the forest of flying paper airplanes
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| Grazing on the grounds of ponytails
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| The substitute is counting down her ticks 'til recess
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| Hammering down to size her fingernails
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| Because today’s the day Sebrina builds her box lunch buffet
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| Kool-aid, sandwiches and chips for all the shoulders
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| Lunch is on the table
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| Soon dessert is on the floor
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| Singing
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| So serene
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| Sebrina makes me feel so serene
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| So serene
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| Sebrina makes me feel so serene
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| Chesney’s looking dapper in his brand new dunce cap
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| Strolling down the runway to an «F»
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| (never has he ever looked as lovely)
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| With all the others watching
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| Eating paste and plato (the one and only)
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| He fights the urge to run and kiss the chef
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| (But she’s a lovetarian especially in the form of puppies)
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| So he keeps his elbows off her table but spills the beans
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| That he loves the girl behind the boysenberry punch
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| (Sebrina)
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| So serene
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| Sebrina makes me feel so serene
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| (Our lady of the jabberwock)
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| So serene
|
| Sebrina makes me feel so serene
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| (I live to smell her tulips talk)
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| So serene
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| Sebrina makes me feel so serene
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| (Hostess for the show and tell, the shepherdess of the muscatel flock)
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| Lunchbox, hopscotch on the rocks
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| With spitballs, pratfalls, alcohol
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| Sebrina… |