The Garden

t's late July, crowds roll by your town.
Your garden is grown.
Blackbird is seen, from the highest tree,
of the stone-bridge leads to the road.
Your daddy is cryin', 'cause mother, she's dyin',
Ain't no cancer, that eats at your soul,
And I'm off to the war, to make d___ sure
they don't come 'round here, no more.

Daddy, all right, tells our mother tonight,
"I'm just a garden that grows on the lawn."
The sweet breeze don't blow, like it does back home.
'Cause we're ain't nothin' but b______s and boys.
Son now, all right, your mother died here tonight,
in the garden, the blackbird does fly.
Spoke of Ohio, a cold, breezy dawn,
and a son that's fightin' in the war.

Ain't no exit I see, from this black where I breathe
and the garden, is a thousand miles gone.
Mother just died, with a heart dark as mine,
of the stone-bridge, leads to the road.
Daddy's done cryin', 'cause mother's done dyin'.
oh, the cancer, has eaten her whole.
But I'm stuck in this war, to make d___ sure
they don't come, they don't come...
Where the blackbird sang and now lives at her grave.
And the garden has grown itself dry.
If I ever get home, from this terror I've known,
go to the garden, go to the garden,
and I'll wait there to die.