Same Old Man

It's the same old lady putting out the wash

Standing in the rain in her mackintosh

Same old lady standing in the rain

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 come back on the tree

Turn the color green the way you ought to be

My mind is fading and my body grows weak

And my lips won't form the words I speak

And now I'm floating away on a barrel of pain

New York City won't see me again

It's the same old man sitting at the mill

The mill will turn in and of its own free will

I'm certainly glad to be at home

New York City continues on alone

I'm certainly glad to be at home

New York City continues on alone

New York City continues on alone

New York City continues