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