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 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 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 Same old man, sitting by the mill Mill will turn on on it's own free will I'm certainly glad to be at home New York City continues all alone