(Verse 1)
Who's that in the back of the classroom (I don't know)
With a patch on his back pack and a match sticking out through it?
Hand raised, asks for a pass to go to the bathroom
And staggers outside the class just laughing while doing it (Haha)
Tick tock, that's the sound of the big box
That the janitor found secured with a trick lock (Crap)
So then he thought he'd heard, with a big rock
He could jam it, then it was sure to be switched off
A black Glock in the hands of a mad boy
That's wielding bad toys, gas, and a match box
Hater of the bullies, savior of the bullied
Leader of the small, and a stranger to the goodies
Maybe he is a rookie
But in his mind he's doing a favor for the wussies

{Verse 2}
It didn't work, it's still ticking down
If the bomb doesn't kill him then his guilt will for now
A sad man who lived with a trashcan
Just ended his life with his head in a trash bag
He won't miss, the gun's at the nose tip
He stared in the eye of a bully froze stiff
He pulled the trigger and didn't hear one blam
Again and again until he realized the gun's jammed
Out came the matches but they were covered in water
And when the gun should have went off it didn't even bother. Or maybe he's a wuss after all