On the fourth floor of the building In a shallow window box She’s digging in the soil with a silver spoon Her hands inside rubber gloves Planting seeds pulling out weeds The cycle of life is complete Who would’ve thought it in a city of stone Four floors above the street
I cannot tell what kind of flowers they are I’m too far below on the street But the colour they add to the building so drab Brings a warm splash of welcome relief Something worthwhile for the sun to shine on A reason to radiate heat Well that small window box puts a skip in my feet Four floors below on the street
For every good seed she plants in the soil There’s a dozen bad waiting to grow To strangle the goodness she’s trying to nurture And kill all the seed that she’s sown Every time you water the garden you also water the weeds A profound illustration of sin and temptation Four floors above the street
Some people don’t understand why she does it Some people look for a reason Maybe she just likes the feel of the soil Or keeping in tune with the seasons Maybe she has so much pride in herself Got to keep it all visually pleasing A small paradise in a world of concrete Four floors above the street
A small paradise in a world of concrete A small paradise in a world of concrete A small paradise in a world of concrete Four floors above the streetTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
