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I lay my head down and I close my eyes, and I listen to the sounds going on outside my window It’s real life out there I picture all their faces and what they might be doing now Where is everybody going where could they all be bound outside my window leaving me behind
I imagine smiles on all their faces but yet can still see the tears in their eyes
I pick my head up and pull the curtain aside, and I look at individuals try to imagine what they’re feeling inside Do they know what I know
I walk over to the mirror do I still like what I see, can I still be a part of them can they still be a part of the life that I used to know
There isn’t any truth to being here 'cause I'll always be someone else’s lie I pick my feet up and I walk up to the door I see that it’s raining just like the time before It should be different But it all looks the same
I lay my head down and I close my eyes, and I listen to the sounds going on outside my window It’s real life out there
[This message has been edited by blakeh (edited 09-02-2002).]
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"The standard by which I now measure the things in my life is the following: If I was on my death bed, or if I knew I had a short time to live, would this issue be important? If the answer is no.. I don't sweat it at all. If the answer is Yes, you better believe it goes to the front of the order of today's business!" -Brian Austin Whitney