The boys in the street mend their cars.
A miniature garage, it seems.
I feel like crying, I feel so alone,
No-one to mourn me when I am gone.
No-one to miss me, no-one to care.
I pound at the walls, but no-one is there.
And if they are there, then no-one hears.
And if they hear, then no-one cares.
No-one to care, no-one to cry,
If I live, If I die.

The boys in the street are at it agai...

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