"Rags of Flowers" as written by John C. Lombardo and Mary Jeanne Ramsey....
City streets with noises abound
Telephone wires sparkle with sound
All believe impeachably
A world without end, amen, amen
And the grass grew yellow and brown
And the sky wasn't blue
And at first when our radios worked
We wouldn't believe it was true
Boy with friend a-walkin' the land
Woman in fields a-plowin' the earth
Goods a-plenty in front of the store
Life was in love with the mushroom cap war
And the grass grew yellow and brown
And the sky wasn't blue
And at first when our radios worked
We wouldn't believe it was true

Looking for the fort we built
By the old abandoned mine
But there was nothing,
Nothing we could find
There was no place for seeking and hiding,
No time left for us finding
The worn-out whiskey bottles
As my cold hands drawing crosses on the ground

Searching for our secret tree,
The one with both our names
But there was nothing,
Nothing we could find
There was no place for seeking and hiding,
No time left for us finding
The worn-out whiskey bottles
As my cold hands drawing crosses on the ground

Stunted trees growing wild in the pool
Once summertime swim,
Now shade keeps us cool
Kunda's baby never got born
Victory gardens all withered and worn
And the grass grew yellow and brown
And the sky wasn't blue
And at first when our radios worked
We wouldn't believe it was true
The rags of flowers bloom
The clouds a living tomb
And Christmas is coming soon,
Turn gladly back home.


Lyrics submitted by wildflowerfever

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