Barbra Streisand - Martina

I can see Martina as a child of three In the sad seclusion of her nursery Go outside, Martina! Go outside and play Never speak, Martina, put your toys away So her days were loveless And her nights the same When she cried for someone No one ever came... Is it any wonder that her eyes grew cold? That she loved nobody and her young heart grew old All the children crying from the age of three Grow to be Martinas and me...