She wears her hairtie on her wrist So cool, suave, in that unregard for style And basic "popular" sensibility She doesn't seem to care what anybody else thinks Not even what she herself thinks, and she Walks into the empty classroom and sits Down and cries up to the blackboard With the green frame surrounding it's dusty Surface, and she tugs at her hairtie, unaware That I am watching...and she pulled her hair back, Ties it up, and lets her wrist be vacant She doesn't know that I am watching... She doesn't know that I am her... She doesn't know that I am lonely. |
|