
[Verse 1]
Oh, how I linger in the reference section
Where you borrowed Catcher in the Rye and returned it... creased
Your laughter echoes like the bell of the Last Orders
My heart is a tray of chips, dropped in the November rain

[Chorus]
So here I stand, in my acrylic cardigan
Pilling with the weight of my ethical superiority
You, a vision in splendor and leather footwear
I, the Oscar Wilde of the school dinner queue (but with worse teeth)

[Verse 2]
I slip you sonnets through the vents of your locker
But you use them to wrap your ham sandwiches
Your indifference hangs round my neck
Like this NHS spectacle frame, bent with longing
I bear your cruelty like a vegan button badge
Pinned to my lapel, provoking the butchers

[Chorus]
So here I stand, in my acrylic cardigan
Pilling with the weight of my ethical superiority
You, a vision in splendor and leather footwear
I, the Oscar Wilde of the school dinner queue (but with worse teeth)

[Verse 3]
I watch you eat sausage rolls with such casual cruelty
While I clutch my empty wholemeal bun, longing for crumbs
You glow like the heat lamp of a Wetherspoons carvery
I am the vegetarian at the wedding, again

[Chorus]
So here I stand, in my acrylic cardigan
Pilling with the weight of my ethical superiority
You, a vision in splendor and leather footwear
I, the Oscar Wilde of the school dinner queue (but with worse teeth)

[Verse 4]
I am the Stephen Fry of the bike sheds
But shorter, and sadder, and banned from smoking
My tragedy unfolds by the science block
Where you kiss boys who read The Sun without irony

[Bridge]
(Music becomes sparse and haunting, with a melancholy accordion)
This frayed cardigan... a coronation robe
Had Lord Byron shopped at British Home Stores...
This monument to dreams... reflected in the butcher’s window...
The jester’s final bow... in the car park of the abandoned Little Chef...
The echoing silence... of the lentils...

[Chorus]
So here I stand, in my acrylic cardigan
Pilling with the weight of my ethical superiority
You, a vision in splendor and leather footwear
I, the Oscar Wilde of the school dinner queue (but with worse teeth)

[Outro]
So I’ll twirl in the Spar car park, where the trolley boys jeer
And as the threads unravel, I realize...
This cardigan was always three sizes too large
It belonged to my deceased uncle
Who smelled of damp biscuits and disappointment
And frankly...
The moths have better taste than I        

---------------------------------

Previous version (Frayed Cardigan)

[Verse 1]
Oh, how I linger in this hollow space,
Where love once danced but left without a trace.
Your laughter echoes, a cruel, haunting sound,
My heart's a broken jigsaw, scattered on the ground.

[Chorus]
So here I stand, in my frayed cardigan,
A monument to dreams that never began.
You, a vision in splendor, I, a wretched fool,
In this tragic opera, I’m the jester of the school.

[Verse 2]
I write you sonnets, though you never read,
Each word a petal that you’ve long since shed.
Your name's an albatross I bear around my neck,
With every passing day, I drown in my own wreck.

[Chorus]
So here I stand, in my frayed cardigan,
A monument to dreams that never began.
You, a vision in splendor, I, a wretched fool,
In this tragic opera, I’m the jester of the school.

[Verse 3]
I watch you with others, and my heart takes a dive,
Like a moth to the flame, just wishing to survive.
You shine like the sun, while I’m cloaked in the dark,
A flickering candle, longing for a spark.

[Chorus]
So here I stand, in my frayed cardigan,
A monument to dreams that never began.
You, a vision in splendor, I, a wretched fool,
In this tragic opera, I’m the jester of the school.

[Verse 4]
I trudge through this life, a comical plight,
Chasing shadows of love that elude my sight.
Yet in my sorrow, there’s beauty untold,
For in unrequited love, my heart learns to be bold.

[bridge](Music becomes sparse and haunting)
This frayed cardigan, a king's robe in disguise...
This monument to dreams, reflected in your eyes...
The jester's final bow, before the curtain falls...
The echoing silence that through these empty halls calls...

[Chorus]
So here I stand, in my frayed cardigan,
A monument to dreams that never began.
You, a vision in splendor, I, a wretched fool,
In this tragic opera, I’m the jester of the school.

[Outro]
So I’ll twirl in my misery, a dance all alone,
The walls are my audience; the silence my throne.
With each self-deprecating verse that I sing,
In this absurdity, perhaps joy is the thing.