She Wore Flowers in Her Hair
She wore flowers in her hair, black roses all around. They did nothing to overshadow her scowl, and yet she made them look pretty.
But she traded that crown. Traded that crown for another. Far and away. Far and away.
Soon another comes dancing along, ready to add her steps to the song.
She wore flowers in her hair, blooming blue and full. They added to her smile, but he caused her cracks to show.
He tore away that crown. Traded it for another. One near and dear and hardly won. Near and dear and hardly won.
Because another came dancing along, ready to add her steps to the song.
She wore flowers in her hair, leaves all green and bright. They matched her life and luster. Her dances filled the night.
But he gave away that crown. Gave it away to another. To a former dancer faded away. Faded away.
Faded away.
Eventually another came dancing along, not knowing all that had gone wrong.
She wore flowers in her hair, shining like dandelions. She smiled and laughed and took half a chance to see what this man was about.
They set aside that crown. Both looking back at the others. And then they clear the stage, leaving the lights to die.
They all wear flowers in their hair. Black, blue, green, and gold. And they all survived the man, who never knows what he holds. And knows not where he goes.
