The Flower Seller
Amil comes from Kabul
Amil walks in Ste. Catherine
Amil sells red roses there
In The Laboureur and Chez Martine
Amil turns up his collar
Against the changing weather
Amil turns his blind eye
To lovers best not seen together
Amil is scarred by what he has seen
The forever war of his young life before
Now drifting away in the fresh air of new days
And the scent of the flowers from his secret store
