By by Nancy Moran and Barb Trammell
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There’s a girl in the window, her heart’s on the mend
Everyone loves her but she’s no one’s best friend
Years of two lives gone awry, why pretend
That this screenplay has no intermission

I look towards the window, the view becomes clearer
I notice my face is the one in the mirror
And I cling to a prophesy I now hold dear
There’s a place for our own self-attrition

But reflections don’t always reflect what is real
What is seen doesn’t always reflect what you feel
If the last piece of the puzzle will not solve the deal
Then I think I’ll forego that decision

Acquaintances come and leave ink marks on canvas
Lovers long brushstrokes paint portraits of time
Silhouettes, sculptures our families hand us
Come see my gallery, the art of my mind

Yesterday’s laughter becomes today’s smile
Happily, if after, we wonder a while
Well, it’s kept with the tears in a secret file
Just a part of my inner museum

And those tapestries woven were sacred to me
For so long were locked up that I’d thrown out the key
And then somebody somewhere found out history
Would not change if I let someone see them

Acquaintances come and leave ink marks on canvas
Lovers long brushstrokes paint portraits of time
Silhouettes, sculptures our families hand us
Come see my gallery, the art of my mind

I sketched out my life, though surreal, how I labored
Only black and white stick figures covered the page
When the rains came and smeared
All the colors I favored
It’s the gallery’s lesson, my coming of age

Acquaintances come and leave ink marks on canvas
Lovers long brushstrokes paint portraits of time
Silhouettes, sculptures our families hand us
Come see my gallery
Come see my gallery
Come see my gallery

Acquaintances come and leave ink marks on canvas
Lovers long brushstrokes paint portraits of time
Silhouettes, sculptures our families hand us
Come see my gallery, it’s one of a kind
No piece is for sale, it’s priceless
It’s mine