The garden is different, drier somehow.
Flowers once vibrant now seem to be dead.
The roses have wilted; they cannot wilt more.
I can't do anything now;
A long time since they were fed.
The garden is different, drier somehow.
I'll plant some new flowers, and I will make a vow,
A vow to protect them, but that's all in my head.
The roses have wilted; they cannot wilt more.
I'd clear away this mess, but I haven't a plow.
I wish I took care of them, but I was misled.
The garden is different, drier somehow.
I've got water and seeds in my hand;
But this place is different, and I am not ten.
The garden is different, drier somehow.
The roses have wilted; they cannot wilt more.


