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Apparently, my pencil knows me best.
My Another rough day, and I'm not quite sure what to do. I pick up my pencil, and start to think of you.
Though, I'm not quite sure what I want to say, pencil knows what to do. It dances across the paper, and before I know it, I'm through.
I hold up my notebook, not sure if I'm proud or distressed; I slowly start to realize, even my pencil knows you're the best.
If I can't hide my feelings from inanimate objects, I know my sanity is through.
It isn't all my fault though, I'm just that crazy for you.
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