You think you know me,

But you ain’t got a clue.

I been growin up,

Just like grown ups do.

So before you run around talkin’ crazy,

Listen up Pal, because I’m talkin’ to you…

That’s right I’m talkin’ to you.

Little guitar ditty. Someone lightly taps a wammy bar.

I’ve gone and read some books,

And done a bit of thinkin’,

I learned my times tables,

You were under tables drinkin’,

So baby wait, don’t be so quick to preachin’,

Just listen up Pal, because I’m talkin’ to you…

That’s right I’m talkin’ to you.

Drum crescendo, Chord progression gets heavier.

(Chorus)

I’m in college, gettin’ smart.

I’m a player, this’ my game.

But you’re just a baby, baby.

Ain’t that a cryin’ shame.

Guitar whammy.

(I take a second to breathe and have a sip from this water bottle).

I used to read those magazines,

The world was just a shopping mall,

Skinny girls in skinny jeans,

Become a life size Barbie doll,

Then I read some Socrates,

He’s the wisest of them all,

Why’d he have to drink that hemlock?

Sometimes I wish it was you…

Oh yeah I wish it was you.

Drum explosion!

I’m in college gettin’ smart,

I’m a player, this’ my game.

But you’re just a baby, baby.

Ain’t that a cryin’ shame.

(Good ole guitar solo, while I prance around the stage, slapping hands with twelve year olds who love me and want to be like me, including the whole college bit, but mostly they want to wear jeans like me.)

Ok, now bring the music low.

Who’s the wisest of them all?

Who’s the wisest of them all?

Who’s the wisest of them all?

Who’s the wisest of them all?

Then I say: Well it ain’t you, wise guy! It’s SOCRATES!

I’m in college gettin’ smart,

I’m a player this’ my game.

But you’re just a baby, baby.

Ain’t that a cryin’ shame.

Total explosion. My album goes platinum. Everyone loves me and I buy a mansion in Myrtle Beach.