I can hardly stand the sight of lipstick,
On the cigarettes there in the ashtray,
Lying cold the way you left them,
But at least your lips caressed them while you packed,
Or the lip print on a half-filled cup of coffee,
That you poured and didn't drink,
But at least you thought you wanted it,
And that's so much more than I can say for me.
It's been a good year for the roses,
Many blooms still linger there,
The lawn could stand another mowing,
Funny, I don't even care,
But as you turned and walked away,
As the door behind you closes,
The only thing I thought to say,
Is what a good year for the roses.
After three, four years of marriage,
It's the first time that you haven't made the bed,
I guess the reason we're not talking,
Is there's so little left to say that we haven't said,
Oh while a million thoughts go racing through my mind,
I guess I haven't said a word,
And from the bedroom the familiar sound,
Of our one baby's crying goes unheard.
But what a good year for the roses,
Many blooms still linger there,
The lawn could stand another mowing,
It's Funny, I don't even care,
But as you turned and walked away,
As the door behind you closes,
The only thing I thought to say,
Is what a good year for the roses.