Sundays when i wake up the memory of when i prepare my uniform runs through my head, the anxiety of wear blue and white remembers me how much i love it Classes are not the same, the feeling of being there makes me lose my self in memories of laughing out theres Holidays shout me from my window, and the emotion of prepare the plaid skirt remains me how much i hate it Old memories of my classmates dirty pants for jumping high as kangaroos at the break Oh! what a short skirt my teachers said when they saw me in every hallway Lazy and crazy days in which my beautiful uniform was part of my amazing life