I can see martina as a child of three
In the sad seclusion of her nursery
Go outsidemartina! go outside and play
Never speakmartinaput your toys away
So her days were loveless
And her nights the same
When she cried for someone
No one ever came...
Is it any wonder that her eyes grew cold?
That she loved nobody and her young heart grew old
All the children crying from the age of three
Grow to be martina's and me...
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