|
I can hardly bear the sight of lipstick |
|
On the cigarettes there in the ashtray |
|
Lyin' cold the way you left 'em |
|
But at least your lips caressed them |
|
While you packed |
|
Or the lip-print on a half-filled cup of coffee |
|
That you poured and didn't drink |
|
But at least you thought you wanted it |
|
That's so much more than I can say for me |
|
What a good year for the roses |
|
Many blooms still linger there |
|
The lawn could stand another mowin' |
|
Funny, I don't even care |
|
As you turn to walk away |
|
As the door behind you closes |
|
The only thing I have to say |
|
It's been a good year for the roses |
|
After three full years of marriage |
|
It's the first time that you haven't made the bed |
|
I guess the reason we're not talkin' |
|
There's so little left to say we haven't said |
|
While a million thoughts go racin' through my mind |
|
I find I haven't said a word |
|
From the bedroom the familiar sound |
|
Of a baby's cryin' goes unheard |
|
What a good year for the roses |
|
Many blooms still linger there |
|
The lawn could stand another mowin' |
|
Funny, I don't even care |
|
As you turn to walk away |
|
As the door behind you closes |
|
The only thing I have to say |
|
It's been a good year for the roses |
