Millionaires and paupers walk the lonely street
Rich and poor companions of the restless feet
Strangers in a foreign land
Strike a match with a tremblin' hand
Learn too much to ever understand

But nobody's buyin' flowers
From the flower lady

Poets agonize they cannot find the words
Stone stares at the sculptor, says "Are you absurd?"
Painter paints his brushes black
Through the canvas runs a crack
Portrait of the pain never answers back

But nobody's buyin' flowers
From the flower lady

But nobody's buyin' flowers
From the flower lady

Feeble, aged people almost to their knees
Complain about the present using memories
Never found their pot of gold
Wrinkled hands found weary holes
Each line screams out "You're old, you're old, you're old"
But nobody's buyin' flowers
From the flower lady

Flower lady hobbles home without a sale
Tattered shreds of petals leave a fading trail
Not a pause to hold a rose
Even she no longer knows
The lamp goes out, the evening now is close

But nobody's buyin' flowers
From the flower lady