Tyler woke up, got ready, and drove to school, during second hour, he couldn't help keep his mind off of her.
"Her name is noelle"
"I have a dream about her"
"She rings my bell"
He looked at the clock.
"I got gym class in half an hour"
He looked at her, across the classroom.
"Oh how she rocks"
"In Keds And Tube socks"
He smiled.
"But, she doesn't know who I am."
He looked back down.
"And she doesn't give a damn about me"
"Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby"
The bell rang.
He ran down the hall to gym.
"Yea I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby"
"Listen to iron madien baby with me"
After gym, he made his way to lunch.
He was now at lunch, talking with his friends.
"Her boyfriend's a dick!"
"He'd bring a gun to school."
They all laughed.
"And he'd simply kick"
"My ass I'd he knew the truth"
"He lives on my block"
"And drives an IROC"
"Sexy"
His friend joked.
"But he doesn't know who I am"
He stood up.
"And he doesn't give a damn! About me!"
A few weeks later.
"Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby?"
"Yea I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby."
"Listen to iron madien baby with me?"
"No that's too forward"
Josh said.
His friends laughed.
"Try, 'hey how are you?'"
His other friend spoke.
"No, she doesn't know what she's missing."
Isabelle smiled, laughing.
"Yea she doesn't know what she's missing!"
He yelled and they all laughed.
"Man I feel like mould"
He sat at the table with his friends.
"It's prom night and I am lonely"
He thought.
"Lo and behold"
"She's walking over to me"
"This must me fake"
"My lip starts to shake"
"How does she know who I am?"
"And why does she give a damn about me?.."
She whispers in his ear.
"I've got two tickets to iron madien baby"
"Come with me Friday, don't say maybe"
"I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby, like you"
His eyes widened as she pulled away and handed him a ticket.
His friends all applaud and cheered.
Isabella, on the other hand, wasn't too happy, but she loved seeing Tyler happy.
"He doesn't know what he's missing"
She whispered to herself and laid her head down, letting them dance together.
