Lyrics Analog Park - The Gathering
In
the
garden,
in
the
park,
on
a
bench,
I
sit.
A
newspaper
floats
on
the
breeze
of
this
late
summer.
It
is
coming
my
way,
I
patiently
wait.
I
see
the
sign,
it's
on
the
road
And
I
think
it's
crazy
In
the
garden,
of
the
park,
on
a
bench,
I
watch.
The
sandy
feet
of
the
children.
Pearls
of
sweat
run
across
their
beautiful
faces.
You
see
the
sign,
it's
on
the
road
But
I
think
you're
crazy
You
are,
you
are
the
sign
Of
my
unrelief
As
I
easily
get
inner
contact
with
myself,
I
notice
distress
grabbing
for
my
throat.
It
is
time
to
reach
out.
To
find
something
that
isn't
there,
You
see
the
signs,
they're
on
the
road
But
I
think
it's
crazy
You
are,
you
are
the
sign
Of
my
unrelief
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