The grocer's broom, back and forth

Glides across the warn wooden floor

He stirs the dust of the day

Counts the change before closing the drawer

Thirty years out the door

Because the landlord wanted five hundred more

Some stop by the store

Just to see if he's doing OK

It's a crime, it's a shame

This old neighborhood won't be the same

You could take a lazy cruise

Over five thousand fathoms of blue

To pass those idle days

I suppose I've worked enough for one life anyway

I've earned these idle eays

He shuts the light, says goodnight

Makes his way up the wide boulevard

He stops to talk – farethewell, take good care

It's a beautiful night

High above, a million stars

The city blocks seem like five million more

Than a few hundred yards

He climbs the stoop, finds the key

And passes into the dark living-room

He sees the old sunken chair

Where silence sits playing her flute

He finds the tune, he hums along

She will teach him her five hundred songs

And they'll pass …