words by Janice Torre
music by Fred Spielman, 1960
I realize the way your eyes deceived me
With tender looks that I mistook for love;
So take away the flowers that you gave me
And send the kind that you remind me of.
Paper roses, Paper roses.
Oh, how real those roses seem to be!
But they’re only imitation,
Like your imitation love for me.
Your pretty lips look warm and so appealing,
They seem to have the sweetness of a rose;
But throw away the flowers that I gave you
I’ll send the kind that you remind me of.