Brown Thumb

A few months in, I've let my garden go, oh no
It's become overrun and dry as toast
I try to feed my worms, grow all the good germs, oh yeah
But I've got other things to do
I've made mistakes
I've wilted trees, veggies, and flowers
...such a shame
I've got good dirt
I read the books and prayed for showers
For hours, oh
I dreamed a compost pile that's miles and miles high
I woke up with a song right in my mind
But when I sat my ass down, picked up a guitar, oh no
I found my hands couldn't play it after all
I've made mistakes
I've written songs with special powers
Then forgot 'em all
I've got the words
Got melodies but they've turned sour
So sour, oh
I've planted seeds
I've kissed the bees
But I'm still stuck with
My brown thumb
I've picked the weeds
I've murdered fleas
But I'm still stuck with
My brown thumb
I've written poems
Lived as a gnome
But I'm still stuck with
My brown thumb
Gone on the run
Banged on a drum
But I'm still stuck with
This old brown thumb