Analog Park - The Gathering
In the garden in the park on a bench I sit
A newspaper floats on the breeze of this late summer
It is coming my way
I patiently wait
I see the sign it's on the road
And I think it's crazy
In the garden of the park on a bench
I watch
The sandy feet of the children
Pearls of sweat run across their beautiful faces
You see the sign it's on the road
But I think you're crazy
You are you are the sign
Of my unrelief
As I easily get inner contact with myself
I notice distress grabbing for my throat
It is time to reach out
To find something that isn't there
You see the signs they're on the road
But I think it's crazy
You are you are the sign
Of my unrelief
You are you are the sign
Of my unrelief
You are
You are you are the sign
Of my unrelief
You are you are the sign
Of my unrelief
You are you are the sign
Of my unrelief
You are
