Not my fault

Yes, Mrs. Smith, I know ,Mrs. Smith.
It is time for being quiet; it is time for sitting still.
I’m sorry, Mrs. Smith, I’m trying, Mrs. Smith.
I swear it’s not my fault, and I do not need a pill.

You see, Mrs. Smith, It’s my clothes, Mrs. Smith.
Don’t know where my mother got them, but they do stuff on their own.
It’s true, Mrs. Smith, I’m not lying Mrs. Smith
When I’m sitting being good, my clothes will not leave me alone.

There’s these pants that keep on dancing.
They just jiggle, shake, and jive.
And these shoes that won’t stop prancing.
They skip around like they’re alive.

Have you seen this t-shirt twitching?
I think it wants to go outside.
And the socks have started itching
Like they’re dying for a ride.

I try to sit still like I ought to
But tell me, what’s a girl to do
With these dancing pants and twitching shirt
And crazy prancing shoes?

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