Look out for that innocent little girl;
she doesn’t know what will hit her.
She ages blind to the madness that is the world,
but when she opens her eyes,
like a train, like a bus it will hit her.

She’ll look into her mother’s eyes,
and out of their blue it will hit her:
while the little girl was blind to the world,
her father’s fists were his words,
and her mother, he hit her.

The little girl will look to the sky,
and the rain, it will hit her.
As she drowns in the seas of her tears,
even the fish will shiver.
All hope was lost for that poor little girl,
for oh the world, how it hit her.