Martina

	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...