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