Saw you at McDonald's and your earrings dropped a bomb
And your fifty dollar hairdo didn't do, it did you wrong
I can see I'll never see you at the sandbox anymore
But I can't see why you dress up like my mom
Your new pantyhose won't cover up your rusty swing set scars
I'm too old to cry, too young to sing the blues. You've gone too far
You took the first train to the farthest place and left me wondering
Will a matchbox hold my Matchbox cars?
You don't count anymore
You won't go to the candy store
You're just a kid in a backyard game
I don't even know your name
Martha, Mabel, maybe Lynn
Put more makeup on your skin
There's a can of paint in my garage
You'd look good in camouflage
I hear you've got a boyfriend and he's in the seventh grade
So I guess you've got a thing for older men. You've got it made
You'll have a car when you're in High School and a kid when you're in college
And you'll die before you ever get afraid
You don't count anymore
You won't go to the candy store
You're just a kid in a backyard game
I don't even know your name
Martha, Mabel, maybe Lynn
Put more makeup on your skin
There's a can of paint in my garage
You'd look good in camouflage