The teacher’s name was charles
He made me feel like jack
Thought martin was late
Cause he sat right at the back
Thought my name was peter
The time that I was there
I told him it was paul
But he didn’t seem to care
Drawing moustaches and glasses
While on the ’ruling classes’
Drawing willies on soldiers
From berlin to damascus
It shouts out loud
I’m more than you
Making bombs in chemistry,
And catapults in craft,
He thought I must be far too
Down, for this class
He even told the caretaker,
I didn’t want to pass,
And he agreed he’d seen me,
Cutting ’cross his grass
Would he keep all the marbles,
He’d taken in that year,
Would we stormtroop the staffroom,
And pinch his cans of beer.,p] it shouts out loud
I’m more than you.
There is always something there to remind me,
Of something that I should’ve left behind me,
It taps you on the shoulder in a que,
It shouts across the street, I’ve more than you,
There is always something there to remind me,
Of you.
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