Analog Park Lyrics - 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