Spring comes once again
Bringing in her finest flowers
Marigolds and bluebells
Ringing in her finest hour
Sweet, sweet blows the breeze
Waking all the morning glories
Blowing like a baby's breath
Through the lilies of the valley

Seasons go and come
And we are like chrysanthemums
Delicate and lovely, yes
And we bloom while we can

Sunset, like a bruise
Coloring the blue horizon
Dark as a black eyed susan
Yellow as a dandelion

Seasons go and come
And we are like chrysanthemums
Delicate and lovely, yes
And we bloom while we can

Oh now, forget me not
Cause leaves will fade and petals will fold
I'm lying with the nightshade
Sleeping with the evening primrose

Seasons go and come
And we are like chrysanthemums
Delicate and lovely, yes
And we bloom while we can
We bloom while we can

Maybe we're just one of a million tiny galaxies
Hurtling on towards some unrevealed destiny
Maybe we're somebody's unfinished symphony

Maybe we're the defenders of the indefensible
Just trying to make sense of the incomprehensible
And what if we, what if we are
What if we, what if we are
Stars

Maybe we're the victims of reincarnation
Maybe we're the phantoms of manifestation
Maybe we're just here to fix our mistakes again

Maybe we're planets like Venus and Saturn
Surrounded by gases and protons and atoms
And what if we, what if we are
What if we, what if we are
Only stars

Maybe this world is just thinner than it seems
Maybe we're all partners in the same lucid dream, yeah
Well maybe we're vapors, and maybe we're just steam

Maybe we're creatures of habit and malice
That pale in the light of aurora borealis
And what if we, what if we are
What if we, what if we are
Only stars
Only stars
in the dark
just a
spark

Maybe we're just lucky and blest to bear witness
to the flashing of the meteor, the tale of this comet
Maybe we're cursed, and maybe we're fortunate

Maybe we just go on our milky white way
And maybe we get to stay
What if we, what if we are
What if we, what if we are
Stars
Only stars

Papa says he's gone and sold the farm
To a man from Massachusetts with a briefcase in his arm

He says he's tired of working with his hands
Gonna move to California, maybe visit Disneyland

Papa says he's tired of growing corn
Soybeans and alfalfa, says it feels like he was born
In a field
Between the furrow and the roses

Papa never liked to be alone
He says that he'd be better with some neighbors and a phone

He says he misses Mama more than anything
Loves to tell the story of how he gave her wedding ring
In a field
Between the furrow and the roses

Papa says his eyes ain't what they used to be
He says that, more or less, you know he really can't see

Papa says he's not long for the world
He says that when I die, you better bury me girl
In a field
Between the furrow and the roses
Between the furrow and the roses