| There is a girl
|
| In the front of my class
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| Who I swear I’ve never seen
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| Do anything but laugh
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| She’s tall and she’s smart
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| Beautiful and strong
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| And when someone’s down
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| She tries to fix what is wrong
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| How does someone so perfect
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| Feel so insecure?
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| As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
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| And still want to hurt more…
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| How does someone so loving
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| Learn to hate her own guts?
|
| Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade
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| As if her mind isn’t dark enough
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| There is a girl
|
| In the front of my class
|
| Who’s eyes are glazed over
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| Like newly cut glass
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| The ghost of a smile
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| Hints at her face
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| And she laughs as they tell her
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| «Who's on First Base»
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| How does someone so perfect
|
| Feel so insecure?
|
| As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
|
| And still want to hurt more…
|
| How does someone so loving
|
| Learn to hate her own guts?
|
| Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade
|
| As if her mind isn’t dark enough
|
| There is a girl
|
| In the front of my class
|
| Who’s sad that you find it rare
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| To see her smile or laugh
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| Her frends tells her jokes
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| Like tthat one with the guy
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| But all she does is close her eyes
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| And enter her mind
|
| How does someone so perfect
|
| Feel so insecure?
|
| As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
|
| And still want to hurt more…
|
| How does someone so loving
|
| Learn to hate her own guts?
|
| Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade
|
| As if her mind isn’t dark enough
|
| For her imperfections…
|
| There is a girl
|
| In the front of my class
|
| Who yesterday took
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| The breath that was her last…
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| She wrote a few notes:
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| I’m sorry Ididn’t say
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| But my mind was messed up
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| You couldn’t save me anyway…
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| And to the girl in the back of the class
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| Who feels the way I did…
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| How does someone so perfect
|
| Feel so insecure?
|
| As to scar her skin with cuts and burns
|
| And still want to hurt more |