I can see Martina as a child of three   In the sad seclusion of her nursery      Go outside, Martina, go outside and play   Never speak, Martina, put 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