"I am the Zamboni."

Today was a beautiful day.

I saw some beautiful people. I heard some beautiful things.

And as of today, poor man is worth man than he was yesterday. That's right. I have a job. I MAKE $7.79 AN HOUR AND I AM LIVING LARGE.

For three hours I cleaned floors. But before I got the floor machine, I had to get the keys; not just any keys; the magic keys; the magic keys that can unlock even the most improper semicolon usage; and the chamber of secrets;

It was less magic keys and more magic chain. This two foot long golden chain hangs low from my belt loop, swinging below my knees at full extension. And oh how it shines. Gold, bling bling, gold, ladies.

And when I insert the key into my back pocket, and that chain hangs cooly from front to back...oh how cooly. I have never been so suburban punk. I'm making mother proud.

"Hey, what's your son do?"

"Which one?"

"The little one that looks like you, but a male."

"Oh, him? He's a janitor."

Let it be known, let it be written, "I am the Zamboni."

If you walk around the Benson and see your reflection staring back at you from the flawless ground, you have me to thank.

I am shaking what my mother gave me. (metaphor).

(not even sure there's a metaphor there).

My Zamboni is popin,

My Zamboni is cool,

All the girlies stoppin,

The chasin' me after school.

No Money? Don't sit there. Get it done.

Turn your speed from symbol of a turtle to symbol of a rabbit.

Now, MAN, grab your life by the squeegee lever.

What's that?!

No, your mother is gone.

Pull in your gut. Tighten those buns. Let me hear you roar.

Now stand on your own two feet, and scream it with me.

"I am the Zamboni."