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Iâll return time and again
to the door we entered in
no regrets, Mr. Dissident
I see so now I know
I see so now I know
Iâm a ghost, Iâm a gardener
Iâm lost in the room
I am lost with you, Iâm lost
Iâm a ghost of a gardener
my rows of thistle bloom
I pick them for you
quiet now, letâs go to rest
on the bed of lilies I planted
of course they didnât take
but a fine bed theyâll make
my dreams full of dirt & you
my dreams of dirt and you
Iâm a ghost of a gardener
and my rows of thistle bloom
I pick them for you
I pick them for you
someday when my eyes are clouded white
Iâll see this clear
I will see this clear
and when my hands are gnarled and tired
Iâll lift this up
I will lift this up
and then when my bodyâs
gone gone gone
Iâll become the ground
I will become the ground
and the lilies, theyâll be blooming
and the garden, a belly-full
and the willow, bent for weeping
and Iâll see this done
I will see this done