Same Old Man

It's the same old lady, hanging out the wash Standing in the rain, in her 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 by the mill The mill will turn of its own free will I'm certainly glad to be home New York City continues all alone