Yearbook

I've got a homeroom in my heart
A lesson plan I should have started once
But never did
Grade incomplete
I've got your yearbook in my head
It's filled with words I never said
Handwriting legible but none too neat

What can I do?
Pictures of you
Keep making me turn back pages
To redefine
These moments in time
But what does it matter anyway?

A Precious Moments figurine
Shoplifted porno magazines
Each frozen memory tastes bittersweet
Just like the night of our fist kiss
The fleeting glimpse of future bliss
Turned out to be the class
That I won't repeat

Each snapshot comes with it's own
Cache of conflictin' feelings
Four years of public wounds
Which probably won't end up healin'
Administered by teacher
Principal and guidance counselor
It almost makes me wish
I had the sense to stay the hell out

And what can I do?
Pictures of you
Keep making me turn back pages
To redefine
These moments in time
That I'll probably never understand. . . .