She sank without a trace in a little one mechanic town All the old folks shrugged their shoulders when I asked around She was the spooky type who never made a sound But who was always there when you turned around She was always there when you turned around Braided chestnut hair, skinny white legs Is she swimming from the willow, is she swimming in the dregs? Is this the late-night stretch where she lost control? Where her little white car wrapped itself around the pole? Wrap her up, can't you see she's growing cold! Where she want to run to? Why she want to go? Now the white wax flowers covering the mound Where she sank without trace in a little one mechanic town Where she want to run to? Why she want to go?