Oh, Lucy. I'm so depressed. I don't know what to do.
I think what you need most of all, Charlie Brown, is to come
right out and admit all of the things that are wrong with you.
All right, I'll try
I'm not very handsome or clever, or lucid,
I've always been stupid at spelling and numbers.
I've never been much playing football ir baseball
Or stickball, or checkers, or marbles, or ping-pong
I'm usually awful at parties and dances,
I stand like a stick or I cough, or I laugh,
Or I don't bring a present, or I spill the ice cream
Or I get so depressed that I stand and I scream...
Oh, how could there possibly be
One small person as thoroughly, totally, uttlerly
Blah as me.
Well, that's ok for a starter.
Certainly. You don't think that mentioning these few superficial
failings is going to do you any good, do you? Why, Charlie Brown,
You really have to delve.
You're stupid, self-centered and moody
You're terribly dull to be with
Yes I am.
And nobody likes me,
Not Frieda, or Shermy, or Linus, or Schroeder-
Wait a minute. Snoopy likes me.
He only pretends to like you becaus eyou feed him.
That doesn't count.
Oh why- was I born just to be
One small person as thoroughly, totally, utterly-
You're not very much of a person...
And yet there's a reason for hope.
For although you are no good at music,
Like Schroeder, or happy like Snoopy,
Or lovely like me,
You have the distinction to be
No one else but the singular, remarkable, unique
Yes- it's amazingly true,
For whatever it's worth, Charlie Brown,
Gosh, Lucy you know something. I'm beginning to feel better already.
You're a true friend, Lucy, a true friend.
That'll be five cents, please.
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