Garden

♫My garden is all overgrown and the weeds are creeping up on my home, 
Grass has grown over two foot high and the trees are blocking out the sky. 
French windows won't open any more from the moss that's grown outside the door, 
Hundred birds are nesting in the trees, looks like a wild-life sanctuary.


But I'm not going to cut a single blade of grass, my garden will look just like the distant past, 
Before the days of agricultural land, before the time when pebbles turned to sand. 
When I leave this house I'm going to stay, I'm forsaking my comforts to live another way, 
Get my clothes from heaps, my food from bins, my water from ponds and have tramps for all my friends.♫