With him I shared my tennis racket, My joy and sorrows and my leather jacket He was the one I found standing ground When there was no one around He met she and I was told They were precious to me, more than gold!…
He was thinking of a way till the hay turn gray, Sitting all day and not a wise word to say. He would have his moments Sorrow and fun, he was just like others But he would never run Yet he had, no friends…
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