Memories of High School

Most people think that Navasota, a tiny land of nothing but football fame,
Is a hospitable town compared to it's egocentric neignbors,
A small town inhabited by friendly people living in harmony.

But, truly, my own high school experience the last few years
Leads me to inform you of true nature of the people of this town.

I was working my way through high school here in Navasota,
for four long and miserable years, together with my bet friend Sarah Anne,
A relatively stupid yet athletic blonde,
When tragedy struck out small and gossipy town.

I unwisely told best friend Sarah Anne a secret,
(who is rather known for not being able to keep them)
And it spread through this small town like a wild fire through a bed of Fall's leaves in Texas,
and reached me in a manner that was totally unlike being told to dear old Sarah Anne,
who, in this time of misunderstanding, decided to stand in the intersection in town.

With much screaching and crashing, my dear friend Sarah Anne was no more
And to think I thought we would be best friends forever,
Having only just had the time of our lives at the prom,
Which ended in a hotel roon with five more of our drunk friends,
For someone had spiked the ounch bowl,
But no one had a problem with that.

But now it was over and Sarah Anne lay in the street, pinned between a Mustang and a Jaguar.
And I had to tell her parents
Where I downed a six pack before entering,
And from I learned the truth
Behind our small foolish town.
I advise you to stay far away from this place,
Unless you are deaf, for the roumors here in Navasota,
Have been know to kill... no one is safe.