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