Who's the boy with the sickly eyes down the hall?
He looks so familiar. But his name I can't recall.
He's on my lips, I can feel him right there,
hope he didn't catch me with my mouth open stare.

He looks like he needs a nap, to get some rest.
His clothes all wrinkled, his posture's a mess.

But he has a thick line of laughter creased in his cheek.
His smile has some tatters, and he's got coffee stains
for teeth.
His glasses are fogged up ***** with that day's grease.
If he took a bit of care for himself he'd be looking,
well,
better than what I've seen.

Too bad he isn't better than he is right now.