Garden
Gregory Alan Isakov
On a long road
We are just trees
Wave in the windstorm
We are slow wheels
We are potholes
And it passes
Just like lightning
And it's over
We remember nothing
Bury me in the garden
Bury me in the garden
So that I can feed you
Bury me in the garden
And night rang live beneath the skin [?]
On a long road
We are tall weeds
Misplaced and misconceived
We are windblown
I want to grow old with you
And there's too many streets and avenues from me to you
Bury me in the garden
Bury me in the garden
So that I can feed you
Bury me in the garden
(There is too many streets and avenues)
Bury me in the garden
(From me to you)
Bury me in the garden