```
       go away
Through       me
           weep though

                see me
         to leave
            you
        
        an armful

    where I

   though                passionately

go away,
  without

Grown

            to adorn

        flowers

Grown weary of me,
I will            to    my tears


I will be ready to let
no complaints whatsoever

    carpet your way
```


Purple azaleas have blossomed  
and I have brought armfuls here. I plucked  
them to scatter in your path as you fade away.  
Oh yes, walk into the sunset.

When you turn away from here, take an  
armful to be crushed, take care to  
tread lightly as you walk out. I'll send  
flowers without words as you go each step.

You know you want to leave home often  
even though you hate to decide why.  
I know you'll leave me in the shape of  
an armful when you walk away.

Make your step lightly on the flowers,  
each step soft and silent with  
armfuls of azalea flowers,  
armfuls of azaleas scattered.

Then go crushing with your parting steps.  
You need a change of air; you think I  
will cry. Humble armfuls of flowers  
won't shed tears. Please go away at last.  

Off without a word I shall gather  
armfuls of azalea flowers  
armfuls of purple to spread  
along the pathways. Grown weary of  

me, know that for the life of me I  
am at last sickened with the sight of my  
tears with you marching briskly over those  
withered armfuls. The day will come when

azaleas shall not shed a  
tear. Azaleas by the armful—  
the azaleas flaming hillside—  
shall send you away without a word.





Purple azaleas bloom,  
and I've brought armfuls.  
I plucked them to scatter here  
in your path as you  
fade. Please, walk towards the sunset.  
When you turn away  

from here, take an armful to  
be crushed, please take care  
to tread lightly as you walk  
out. I'll send flowers  
without words for each small step.  
You know you want to  

leave home often although you    
hate to decide why.  
I know you'll leave me in the  
shape of an armful  
when you walk away. Make your  
steps lightly on the  

flowers, each step soft, silent,  
armfuls of aza-  
lea flowers, armfuls of  
azaleas scat-  
tered before you. Then go crush-  
ing with your parting

steps. You need a change of air;  
you think I will cry.  
Humble armfuls of aza-  
leas won't shed tears.  
Please, please go away at last.  
Without words I will

gather armfuls of aza-  
lea flowers, armfuls of  
purple spread along  
pathways. Grown weary of me,  
know that for the life  
of me I'm at last

sickened with the sight of my  
tears with you marching  
briskly over those withered armfuls.  
The day will come when  
azaleas shall not shed  
tears. Azaleas by the

armful — the azaleas  
flaming hillside — send  
you away wordlessly. So please,  
go. Walk into the  
sunset, weaving armfuls of  
tears onto your path.