Chelsea's sitting, no homework again.
Teachers shouting but she's not listening, too deep in pain.
She's realised that school holds her no gain.
Teacher's hands clapping, fingers snapping, not understanding what is happening.
Back in Chelsea's council flat, there's been a mishap.
No callback, thinking perhaps, mentally unstable, she's collapsed.
Deep down she knows it, just hopes it.
Dad's at home on the floor, overdosed.
No wonder Chelsea's comatosed.
Alissa's daydreaming, world-changing scheming.
Creativity streaming, teacher screaming.
"Little Ms Daydream, read for the class",
"Nah Ms., I'd rather pass",
"Don't back answer!",
The letters are dancers.
Her head fills with comeback after comeback, she starts a verbal attack.
Cos a suspension is better than a declination.
Eli sits at the back of the room in bits, another rugby blitz.
The game "he" doesn't fit but for "his" dad him playing is bliss.
Can't even focus, it's hopeless.
Ballet is more "his" style, but "his" family would think it vile.
Can't finish the test, trying "his" best.
"His" soul was screaming not only for point shoes but she wanted tutu's.
Her grades are slipping but she doesn't care, sending out flares.
The thing that bothered her was putting "male" on the front page.
She's trapped in a cage, what an outrage!
Avery has Eli's perfect life, but her mind is a knife.
Not looking at the books cos brains aren't important it's all bout looks.
She's not even thinking straight, how could she when she can't remember the last time she ate.
Tutu's hugging figures, walls covered in mirrors, spotlights and tights, now she's following pro-anorexia sites.
She can't make out the blackboard, no she can't make out anything.
Head starts spinning next thing you know she's floored.
At this point she can't even hear, doesn't even cry a tear.
She disappears but she hasn't been here for years.
Esther's watching the boys soccer team, to be out there would be a dream.
But pink socks and "kicks like an ox" didn't quite make the schools appeals.
Cos girls don't get Manchester deals.
She knows this but it don't matter cos it feels like bliss.
Same skill as Beckham, same effort as Messi.
But that doesn't matter cos girls don't get deals,
this she feels.
Missy's excepting, only fifteen but she was on the scene.
Today's here first sex Ed, "a bit little now" she saying in her head.
Bell rings and no mention of contraception.
The nun at the front keeps giving her a glare, the dad's in the class but she doesn't care.
Says that sex is for "sl~t's" followed by tuts.
Missy isn't surprised she gets it everywhere she goes,
hears mom's telling kids "it's because of her clothes".
Her back's sore, wants help but her and the dad don't talk anymore.
She's crying every night, trying to make things right.
But Missy's the local "sl~t" come morning light.
They won't talk about it so, some other girl will have to raise a kid solo.
Tyler's swinging off his chair, he's not paying attention cos he's aware.
Money doesn't grow on trees, so goodbye to any degrees.
He's brighter than most, but his intelligence has become a ghost.
Hiding in the dark, his mind isn't going to leave a mark,
and he knows it, so hopeless.
Chloe was paying attention, now she's looking down she can feel the tension.
She feels the eyes of the male teacher, looking at her features.
Used to study hard but not anymore, automatic A's so what for.
She hates the feeling, wonders if it's her fault for wearing something revelling.
But she's fourteen, he's way older than eighteen.
objectified, sexualised, testified.
Isn't comfortable in the room, but "it's nothing" she assumes.
But his arm touches her back and she instantly feels under attack.
Ethan is listening, glistening.
First-year, this is her premiere.
Hoping his skin doesn't get in the way,
teacher walks in from the hallway.
Takes one look and Ethan knows this his going to be seen as the crook.
Profiled schoolchild, his hope fades away,
just hoping about someday.