Sandra's pale and Sandra's rumpled
Sandra's life is lacking joy
Clothes and face and hope are crumpled
"She's too wrapped up in that boy."

Late at work, with thin excuses,
Weasel words behind her back
"The company's got no time for losers..."
Sandra's heading for the sack.

Social life is non-existent
All her former friends have gone
Might as well live very distant
As the next-door-house-but-one.

Fridays, Sandra shuts the door - she,
Son and wheelchair stay alone
No other voice, no sound of doorkey,
No cheerful chat, no friendly phone.

"Sandra? O we never see her,"
Though we drive right past her door.
We call her "strange" because we fear
Both the unfortunate and poor.

O let's support our loving carers!
Let's pat their heads,say we, too, care!
Let's claim that we believe in fairies!
Let's make damn sure we're nowhere near!