Near a Garden

Near a little garden flowers wild grasses

A body's in the casket

Milk is in the carton

Coffee's on the brew

And cars quietly pass

As people hear from last respects

Collective view

The face of the deceased

All emptied of emotion

Waiting for distortions

Of it's perfect features

In a little clearing

Where they'll put the coffin

And then shuffle off

And afternoon is nearing

You were once alive, body

Then you died

And I'll sing your name with my instrument

But one day it will leave my hand

I'm skipping like a stone

Just a couple skips then gone

To the bottom of a pond

Where sun can never go

And resting at the bottom

Who knows what I'll find there

No one can divine where

Friends go when we've lost them

The movie on the plane home

Said, "Life is for the living"

As I sat slowly living

Paralysed with boredom

Flying through the thin air

Skimming over cities

And isn't it a pity

That we can't grow old there?

Doesn't it feel strange

To wait on this change?

Well, the pilot tips his instruments knowing

One day they will rust upon land