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 street