She picks the violets
Losing her name
She wears but one dress
Leans on the darkness for herAll my troubles seem poor
Leaving on sunday
You can walk there
Look at them shuffle
They're leaving their chairs for her
All my troubles seem poor
How many times do I have to tell her what she wont remember?
What she wont remember
How many times do I have to tell her what she wont remember?
What she wont remember
She picks the violets
Losing her name
She looks out the window
Wearing the same colour
All my troubles seem poor
She picks the violets
She picks the violets
She picks the violets