The Flower Lady

Millionaires and paupers walk the lonely street Rich and poor companions of the restless feet Strangers in a foreign land Strike a match with a tremblin' hand Learn too much to ever understand But nobody's buyin' flowers From the flower lady Poets agonize they cannot find the words Stone stares at the sculptor, says "Are you absurd?" Painter paints his brushes black Through the canvas runs a crack Portrait of the pain never answers back But nobody's buyin' flowers From the flower lady But nobody's buyin' flowers From the flower lady Feeble aged people almost to their knees Complain about the present usin' memories Never found their pot of gold Wrinkled hands found weary holes Each line screams out "You're old, you're old, you're old" But nobody's buyin' flowers From the flower lady Flower lady hobbles home without a sale Tattered shreds of petals leave a fading trail Not a pause to hold a rose Even she no longer knows The lamp goes out, the evening now is close But nobody's buyin' flowers From the flower lady