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She sank without a trace in a little one mechanic town |
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All the old folks shrugged their shoulders when I asked around |
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She was the spooky type who never made a sound |
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But who was always there when you turned around |
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She was always there when you turned around |
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Braided chestnut hair, skinny white legs |
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Is she swimming from the willow, is she swimming in the dregs? |
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Is this the late-night stretsch where she lost control? |
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Where her little white car wrapped itself around the pole? |
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Wrap her up, can't you see she's growing cold! |
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Where she want to run to? Why she want to go? |
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Now the white wax flowers frow covering the mound |
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Where she sank without trace in a little one mechanic town |
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Where she want to run to? Why she want to go? |