Same Old Man

It's the same old lady, hanging out her wash
Standing in the rain, wearing a mackintosh
Same old lady standing in the rain
Even the thought of New York was going insane

Hey little leaf, lying on the ground

Now you're turning slightly brown

Why don't you get up on the tree
Turn the color green the way you ought to be

My mind is failing and my body grows weak

My lips won't form the words I speak
I'm floating away on a barrel of pain
New York City won't see me again

The same old man, sitting at the mill

The mill turns around of its own free will
I'm certainly glad to be home
New York City will continue on alone