I see the flowers in your garden are in bloom.
I see the flags are flying high.
I hear you've gone and rearranged things in your room.
I guess you're trying to cut-off my air supply.
I came toward your window, real slowly.
I knew deep down I was about to strike oil.
I guess by the now the flowers in your garden know me.
I felt them trying to get at me through the soil.
My bare feet felt the cool, soft dirt,
Moving up my ankles, but I don't fear you.
The thorns began tearing at my shirt,
But I didn't even care when they tore clear through.
Your garden can't hurt me.
Your flowers don't threaten my life.
Your garden can't hurt me anymore.
Your flowers don't threaten my life.
Writer(s): John S Darnielle
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