The grass turns to ash beneath his feet.
That's all of him the common man will see.
These modern days, he just takes the road
As he makes his daily sweep.

There are flowers laid for him
By whom he never knows.
He takes his timid lover's gift
And then to dust it goes.

She's lying still in bed, alone.
These are the folks he's always known.
He puts his hand upon her head
Where they go is never said.

He sees by her a single flower,
A pale and lonely rose.
He takes his timid lover's gift
And then to dust it goes.