A million red roses

There once lived a lonely artist
He owned a house, and a canvas;
But he was in love with an actress,
The one that loved all kinds of flowers.
And so he then sold his house,
His pictures, and all he had wrought
And with all the money he made
A sea of flowers he bought.

        A million, a million, a million red roses
        From your window, your window you see,
        He who loves, he who loves, who loves true
        His whole life into flowers for you will turn.


In the morning you'll stand by your window
You'll wonder if you've lost your mind
Just as though you were still dreaming,
A street full of flowers you'll find.
You'll feel your soul shiver with cold,
What kind of rich prankster did that?
While under your window, not daring to breathe,
The poor, now homeless artist will stand.

        A million, a million, a million red roses
        From your window, your window you see,
        He who loves, he who loves, who loves true
        His whole life into flowers for you will turn.

Their meeting was brief; he stayed
While a train took her into the night,
But always as part of her life remained
The insane song of roses bright.
The artist stayed single for life
A pained, troubled life he led
But always as part of his life he had
The memory of a streetful of red.