Flora Barone hates to see how old she's grown
Coloured the window, shattered the glass
Covered her body with objects from the past
Her mother starred in a vaudeville show
Her hair was famous, as white as snow
Men gave her gifts, all for a curl
She passed them on to her little girl
Flora walking down the street
Flora Barone, I'm with you my sweet
Flora walking down the street
Flora Barone, I'm with you my sweet
Her wedding day to her husband, Bill
Was the happiest day, her heart was filled
He gave her a slip, the colour of the sky
The same as her majestic eyes
When she died Flora's hair was rich
With silk flowing ribbons, and diamond encrusted clips
Flora's daughter was constantly ill
Instead of toys, she has brightly colored pills
A patchwork quilt, it covered her bed
And whenever Flora washed it, the water bled red
Flora walking down the street
Flora Barone, I'm with you my sweet
Flora walking down the street
Flora Barone, I'm with you my sweet
Flora Barone hates to see how old she's grown
Coloured the window, shattered the glass
Covered her body with objects from the past
Flora walking down the street
Flora Barone, I'm with you my sweet
Flora walking down the street
Flora Barone, I'm with you my sweet