| She was not the girl next door
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| But the girl from around the corner
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| At the tail end of grade four
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| When she came to school one morning
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| All eyes were upon her as she took her seat
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| Her name was Amanda, pretty eyes of green
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| Hair of blonde, strawberry blonde
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| Springtime and dandelions
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| And summer 'round the corner
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| At the tail end of age nine
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| With a million dreams before her
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| She lived with her mother, old decrepit house
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| If there was trouble at home, she kept it to herself
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| All summer long, strawberry blonde
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| And by her face there was no way to tell
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| Seemed that all was well in her world
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| But the neighbors said
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| Her mother had lost her will
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| To gin and sleeping pills
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| It was no life for a little girl
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| Still I see her face framed in a blue sky
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| At the top of a slide coming down
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| And when the sirens wailed
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| Her mother had failed to rise
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| All the neighbors stood outside
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| As Amanda just stared at the ground
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| Time flies, and years are piled
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| I’d forgotten all about her
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| When I saw her down the aisle
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| Of a streetcar with her daughter
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| Then I heard Amanda say as she got up
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| C’mon Samantha, girl this is our stop
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| And they were gone, two strawberry blondes |