The Flower Lady

The Flower Lady - Peter And Gordon

Millionaires and paupers walk the lonely street

Rich and poor companions of the restless feet

Strangers in a foreign land

Strike a match with the trembling hand

Learn too much to ever understand

But nobody's buying 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 buying flowers from the flower lady

But 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 streams out you're old you're old

You're old

But nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady

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

But nobody's buying flowers from the flower lady