Who Let You Go?

Who let you go, little girl, in the blue hat? You sit alone at the corner of Pitts and Matt.

I look at you through the window of my pick-up truck, wondering which part of heaven you fell from.

Who let you go, little girl, in the blue hat? You're wearing your Sunday best with a popsicle stick, dangling from your lips like lipstick.

Sittin' alone, sittin' alone...

Who let you go, little girl, in the blue hat? Don't they know it's dangerous out there?

I snatch you up, and stuff you in, the back of my red pick—Bang!