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The Me Next Door.

Theres a me that lives in the woods next door,
A Me I wish I was.
She a girl who sings and a girl who laughs,
and a girl that everyone loves.

Sometimes as the day grows dim,
I run to her and state,
that everything would be but bliss,
if her I could mitate.

She speaks five tongues and runs six miles,
generally she is right.
Accomplished and beautiful, stuck with a terrible plight:

For unless a stranger lurks the grounds,
I’m the only one she knows.
Living solely the half of life,
that I have never chose.




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