I'll be back to pull the garden. Spring has proven winter cruel. And all of summer's beauty lies there rotting. Stripped like yours from you. And I know I Can't stand remembering The dirt Under our fingernails. The silence, Your defense; Tired over Tired hand. And we spent December Given our best shot at hating; But now, As I remember, We had no reason To abuse. I'll force God to notice That He is giving nothing back. And all of us were wet out in the boneyard; He washed the tears from you. And I know you Deserve none of this, My distance As we stole flowers From his grave. The silence, My defense; Tired over Tired hand. And I recall the ways You pretended not to notice, But we both sowed the soil That grew only what could die. And if you believe that I tried only to deceive: You know that's not true.
Written by: SCOTT D. BORN
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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