a single white carnation
sailed through the air hit the ground
behind it was laughter
and envy and joy in the sound
of passion and power
for the star of the hour
least noble of flowers
lays at her feet like a clown

just a step up from a weed
so common so hardy
a stranger to the fame
and other ridiculous things
a practical type
like the fella that threw you
who shuffles away
and exits the theatre alone

a single teardrop
softens the crease on his face
one of many hard living has shaped
"oh baby" he cried "why couldn't i ?"
"oh baby" he cried "why?"
"but look at you now, i guess i've done right"
so the carnation man picked up his bottle
and melted back into the night

she was succesful
the newspapers claimed
a pheonix from ashes
but what they never said was
she longed for a call
from a man she hardly knew at all
she folded her kerchif
and answered the dressing room door

to flashes of light and armfuls of flowers
"just put them over there" she said
"with all of the others"
but a ghost caught her eye
as the usher walked by
a crumpled carnation
fell through the air hit the ground