My name is simply Anna,
I have a wilting rose,
My lips are blue, my cheeks are red,
As he gently touched my nose.

It is very cold out,
There is lots of snow and ice,
As I go I can't help thinking,
"That man seemed so nice."

I think I chose the right thing,
As I get onto the bus,
I pay the driver, wondering,
"Why'd they make a fuss?"

So I will keep moving on,
While my old friend stays behind,
I will chase my dreams,
While the Wilting-Rose-Man keeps her by his side.

Yes, it is cold tonight,
And he offered us a ride,
I was the one who declined,
His wilting rose by my side.

My friend got into his car,
She didn't hesitate,
But I chose to stay myself,
Said for the bus, I'd wait.

And now she's off somewhere,
Sleeping in his bed,
And I am safe at home,
Holding up my head.

My friend didn't understand,
Once started you won't stop,
When he gave us each a wilting rose,
He said we'd reach the top.

And now that he is gone,
I wonder who'll provide,
The thing that keeps her going,
Since she pushed our help aside.

And now she wanders,
Lonely, she's waiting for her time.
And I am sitting, hoping,
She will see the springtime.

In reality she's wilting,
Turning slowly brown,
Like the Wilting Rose,
And that man who came to town.