Last Year - Cast

Song Text

Last Year Song Lyrics

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Last year of elementary school,
Last year of being a kid, being a toy.

I'm gonna go out swinging, Toy soldiers dipping that sun -sized bar,
Slipping slides, fart noises, Chicken stars, Until they tell me to stop.

Last year of elementary school,
Biggest kid on campus, I got it made.
Sit down son, I own all you dorks.
I'm so stoked I was held back in third grade.

Okay, okay, so we will not invite Kara.

Oh my god I hate her,

Sabrina's kind of cool.
We do not do fourth graders. Okay, so we make a list of friends.
Yes, with no weirdos on it. What about Summer? Yeah, she's nice. Summer. Summer, where's mommy? I'm putting you to bed tonight, Kayla. We're getting older. Mommy's gonna be gone someday. I'm gonna be in fifth grade and it's time to start being a grown -up. Where is she? I'm not gonna drink coffee or like water or anything, but I have to fill my own water bottle and get things. But is she still gonna? I know everyone got things last year, but I think my forehead is getting bigger and I don't want to look like a parade float or a comic book alien.

Last year of elementary school.
This is the year people talk to me.
The year someone says how are you?
It's been three years since I've joined the school.
I'm due. I'd say I'm due.

We think you're due too.

Five more minutes. Okay, five more minutes.

I just can't wait to go back. It's the first school day.
Move mom and dad are gonna take me there.
That's not allowed in the house.
That's what the lawyers say.
But he gives me a big hug right on the front stage.

Five more minutes.

Cold this year, you have to get up on your own this year.

Five more minutes.

Okay, five more minutes.

Way to be strong, Dad.

Listening. They say my not -allergies are listening.

Once the M .U .B .B .O .S. is kickin',
I can try the compound chicken.

Welcome, fifth graders, go right through this door.
Because this year, your home rooms
are on the second floor.

The big time.

Please don't step on the kindergarteners.

Last year, sleeping with a nightlife.
Last year, of not spelling dessert right.

Last year, of dominating recess.
Last year. of t -shirts with a princess

of llama's food at lunchtime
it's no green slime of temporary tattoos
Of dying my bichon blue

Last year we'll be doing great fun we'll decide now let's do our lives