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The Best Part of it AllTheres this girl I knowShe sits in the middle of the hallway with her head propped in her handsFrom day to dayAnd every time I see her, I know its my reflection staring backStaring back at meShe asks me, Whats the point in going on?How can I tell whats right and wrong?And how on earth do I keep on livingWhen I keep on running out of things to live for?She says she doesnt know, doesnt know just what to doIm so confusedAnd when the tears fall down her cheeks and to the floorI feel them falling down mine tooBut were the same and thats the worst part of it allBecause thats me whos sitting in the middle of the hallwayWith my head propped in my handsAnd asking question after question with no answer to anythingI dont know what to do, just dont know what to doBut Im still breathing
She lies on her bedHands folded oh so neatly behind her head as she still pondersThe solution