Markup on Marigolds

[Intro]
[Verse]
Fifth Avenue is screaming loud
Lost inside this velvet crowd
Check the tag and check the hem
Polishing a plastic gem
(Aside: Watch the elbow, honey!)
Gloves of lace and hats of felt
Watch the frozen butter melt
I’m the queen of floor thirteen
Keeping all the carpets clean
[Pre-Chorus]
I wrap the silk around their neck
I sign the name upon the check
But in my pocket, hidden deep
Is a secret that I keep
Crumpled packets, dried and brown
Waiting for a different town
[Chorus]
Oh, I’m selling the dream
Stitching the seam
Of a life that isn't mine
Everything’s grand
By my command
While I’m waiting for the sign
To trade this floor for garden dirt
And heal the heart beneath the shirt
No more ribbons, no more bows
I’m headed where the clover grows
(Aside: Next!)
[Post-Chorus]
Ring it up, move it out
That’s what Friday’s all about
Ring it up, move it out
(Piccolo flourish)
[Verse]
Mrs. Higgins wants the blue
Match the shade to her canoe
(Aside: Who takes a canoe to the Ritz?)
Tulle and taffeta in piles
Hidden behind practiced smiles
I’ve spent forty years or more
Walking on this marble floor
Curating every stranger’s grace
While I forget my own face
[Pre-Chorus]
I pin the dart and pull the wire
While my soul is catching fire
I’ve got seeds of gold and red
Dancing all inside my head
Zinnias and baby’s breath
Saving me from fashion death
[Chorus]
Oh, I’m selling the dream
Stitching the seam
Of a life that isn't mine
Everything’s grand
By my command
While I’m waiting for the sign
To trade this floor for garden dirt
And heal the heart beneath the shirt
No more ribbons, no more bows
I’m headed where the clover grows
[Bridge]
No more markup, no more sales
No more chasing bridal veils
I want petals in my hair
Not this stale department air
Keep your diamonds, keep your furs
I am done with ‘his’ and ‘hers’
I want soil beneath my nails
And the wind within my sails
[Breakdown]
(Music slows to a cheeky staccato piano)
(Spoken: Yes, Madam, it’s Dior. No, it doesn't make you look like a turnip. Although, turnips have a lovely rustic charm, don't they? Actually... keep the dress. I’m taking the seeds.)
(Music builds with brassy swells)
[Chorus]
Yeah, I’m planting the dream!
Breaking the scheme!
This life is finally mine!
Everything’s grand
In my own hand
Look at how the petals shine!
I’ll trade the floor for garden dirt
And wear the mud upon my skirt
No more ribbons, no more bows
Watch me bloom just like a rose!
[Hook]
I’m blooming!
(Aside: Out of my way!)
I’m blooming!
(Brass hit)
I’m finally free!
[Outro]