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