In the park on a sunny day while we're waiting

for my mother to get a word in edgeways with Mrs Jones

my brother and I are frying ants with a magnifying glass

And calling it scientific.
I am secretly pretending they are Mrs Collins' cats

because she hates me,I don't know why,

and I hate her for picking on me in class, but not the cats

Only it's the best way I can think of to make her cry.
Once I spent three hours on a beanbag just thinking,

I timed it, no TV or nothing, but my family never leaves me alone.

My mother's always shouting, Edmund, clean your room.

But she doesn't live in it, so why.
I've got a crush

on my friend's sister who sits in her living room

pretending to be a mushroom, because in my house

imagination has pretty much been banned,
but let's get back to the ants.

something about this is making me vaguely uneasy,

Yet the thrill of the science and the sizzle,

my hand on the throttle of destiny, is very clear indeed.
When I grow up, I want to be God or close to him

but I'm keeping it a secret.

Since my brother still wants to be an astronaut

And if he keeps beating me at monopoly,

When we both know he is cheating

I'll be sending an asteroid to blow him up.
Sometimes, being the younger one sucks.