The Flowers

She is walking through the snowflakes
 On the churchyard
 With a small bunch of flowers in her hand
 She's putting it on a gravestone
 Of a young soldier
 Who died on the desert sand
 And it hurts
 And it hurts
 The song in her head
 Where the flowers are gone
 And the young men are dead
 And the girls are alone
 With the hours
 Life is floating away in a small red river
 On the desert sand
 A river of pictures
 A movie of 20 years is flowing
 Through his head
 The flowers
 Where are the flowers
 She was picking alone in a meadow
 A summer a long time ago
 Life was endless
 A desert
 An ocean
 The host of a talk show is laughing
 And laughing
 And people talk about the interior of their houses
 And how they
 How they want to change it
 And it hurts
 And it hurts
 The song in her head
 Where the flowers are gone
 And the young men are dead
 And the girls are alone
 With the hours
 The Apache wandered lonely as a cloud
 O'r vales and hills
 When all at once he saw a crowd
 A host of red poppies in a field
 And the flowers
 Where are the flowers
 She was picking alone in a meadow
 A summer a long time ago
 Life was endless
 A desert
 An ocean
 The flowers
 Where are the flowers
 The hours
 The years
 Where are the flowers
 Sometimes you dream
 The desert is an ocean
 You dive deeper and deeper
 You cannot find him