It's not about interest, it's how you place
Your classes are weapons in an arms race
Your friends are taking two APs, so you take three
Soon we're mired in college work when high school is all we see

Counselors don't help, they only edge us on
Telling us we need advanced levels, or all college spots are gone
In Fairfax County, we score so high on tests
We ignore our thirty three percent depression and say we're the best

Because here all that matters is the grade on your transcript
You're a factory product, another computer chip
So if you're friend takes five college courses, take seven
After a semester, beg mercy and give up on heaven