| Lucy sells her flowers for a quarter apiece
|
| She wound up on the streets
|
| She could not pay her lease
|
| She used to want to save the world
|
| But nothing to her matters now
|
| She lays bout the subway station
|
| Clad in dirty tatters now
|
| Lucy’s in the subway with daffodils
|
| She lost all her diamonds
|
| And she sold all her pills
|
| She’s been around the block
|
| But she’s had too many thrills
|
| Lucy’s in the subway with daffodils
|
| Lucy holds a dixie cup
|
| Of sixty cents in change
|
| And if she looks you in the eye
|
| You see that she’s deranged
|
| She flew too near the sun
|
| And fried her fragile wings
|
| But to her faithful whisky bottle she clings
|
| Lucy’s in the subway with daffodils
|
| She lost all her diamonds
|
| And she sold all her pills
|
| She’s been around the block
|
| But she’s had too many thrills
|
| Lucy’s in the subway with daffodils |