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Still
By. Velda Dunaway
She sits silently on the hill
Watching over us ever so still
Her windows are eyes of the past
Sad, lonely, and ever so still
So still
Many walked the steps so high
And trod her halls so gala
Now they are so bare and ever so still
So still
She gave so much to each of us
Why pass her by with such carelessness
Her wings outstretched welcome you ever so silent
So still
Her name is known far and wide
Many memories yet there abide
She is left broken and torn waiting to be reborn
The Old School on the hill
So still
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