The Flower Lady versuri

Versuri Phil Ochs – The Flower Lady lyrics

Millionaires and paupers walk the hungry streets,
rich and poor companions on the restless beat.
Strangers in a foreign land
strike a match with a tremblin’ hand,
learn too much to ever understand.

But nobody’s buying flowers
from the flower lady.

Lover’s quarrels snarl away their happiness,
kisses crumble in a web of loneliness.
It’s written by the poison pen,
voices break before they bend.
The door is slammed, it’s over once again.

But nobody’s buying flowers
from the flower lady.

Poets agonize, they cannot find the words
and the stone stares at the sculptor, asks „are you absurd?”
The painter paints his brushes black,
through the canvas runs a crack,
portrait of the pain never answers back.

But nobody’s buying flowers
from the flower lady.

Soldiers, disillusioned, come home from the war,
sarcastic students tell them not to fight no more
and they argue through the night
black is black and white is white,
walk away both knowing they are right.

But nobody’s buying flowers
from the flower lady.

Small dreams of the sleeping souls are drifting by,
dull the pain of living as they slowly die.
Smiles change into a sneer
washed away by whiskey tears,
in the quicksand of their mind, they disappear.

Still nobody’s buying flowers
from the flower lady.

Feeble, aged people almost to their knees
complain about the present using memories.
Never found their pot of gold,
wrinkled hands pound weary holes,
each line screams out you’re old, you’re old, you’re old.

But nobody’s buying flowers
from the flower lady.

And the 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 closed.

And nobody’s buying flowers
from the flower lady.