In the Garden

What a way to spend a summer's day:
Watch the east wind roll down to rubble bay.
Cultivate your hate in your shimmy shack
Push the knife into my back- day after...

Day after day- drown in my wake.
Watch you slip away.
yeah.

In the garden grove
a white angel rose.
Said "let the stone remain for every yesterday."

So the Psalms he made
and all the songs we played
were only dead refrains?

Throughout history
an epiphany.
Throughout history
and what it means to me.


And on another day
these two women came.
They saw a gardener
and he claimed, yeah he claimed:
"For the man you seek,
woke from eternal sleep...
up from the grave he rose."

Now some wonder, asunder.
I believe in the thunder