Don't touch the brown lockers

Don't touch the brown lockers
With their multiple layers of paint
Stroked on by generations of janitors
Shoes crusted by clean-up sawdust
And the patience of a saint

Don't touch the brown lockers
It's where all the supplies are kept
The pink sawdust is for the pee
The green is for the puke
Incidentally that kid's lying about it never happening before
There's sick on the ceiling for Pete's sake!
He's a pro
This ain't no fluke

Don't touch the brown lockers
Some say they must be full of fudge
While others exclaim, "No, they're full of poo!"
Though I myself won't budge
From the firm belief that one of them is a Narnia pass-through
Because just the other day I saw the principal come out of one
With his good hunting boots tracking some foreign mud sludge

Don't touch the brown lockers
One of those flaking color layers is certainly full of lead
One of the kindergartners chewed on one for a year they say
Until he went mad with heavy metal head
Growing to a long haired teen driving a twenty year old van
With a shocking to the old people mural upon the side
Of a bare breasted Viking woman calling upon Wotan

Don't touch the brown lockers
They are where the secrets must be kept
Area 51 doesn't have anything on them
They glow at night through the vent slits
Making frightening noises with grey skin and almond eyes
Such that almost no one in the whole town has slept

Don't touch the brown lockers
That's where the bully keeps his lunch
Juicy hamburgers and Crème brûlée
He put a note on it so you wouldn't eat it
If you do you'll bare his bully brath
No doubt to suffer endless noogies ending with an atomic wedgie

Don't touch the brown lockers
Everyone loves a good mystery
Once you open them to see nothing but the odd dust bunny
Then it's all back to the plain old drudgery