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
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 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
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 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
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 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