Garden

Got up; it was late in the evening.
Put on my shoes, and took a walk;
I was thinking about a story that had yet to be written.
I don't remember exactly how I met you,
but there was something wrong with your hair;
it was getting in the way of something,
and you didn't like it.
We walked into the park;
it was raining.
Someone I know is hoping I can follow you.
Someone I know is hoping I can follow you,
and I don't know how I know this,
but at the end of the day, it's always sort of raining;
pieces and pieces, they fall from the sky.
At the end of the day, it's always sort of raining;
if you've seen it before, you know it doesn't lie.
We were walking, it was somewhat past midnight;
we could hear people singing (screaming) from afar.
We stopped talking; I heard a footstep.
Of course I heard it; it was you, all along.
Walked into a house, with a door, and a letter
from the city, telling me they didn't really care;
folded it up, and let you inside to my house,
and you said
"there's nothing! There's nothing really there!"
Talked, and we talked until it was morning;
you said you were starting to like my house.
We stopped talking, and you left, and you said goodbye;
I don't think I ever saw you again.
Got up; it was late in the evening.
I put on my shoes; took a walk.
I was thinking about a dream I had;
it must've been reality.
I like to keep tracks in the snow.
I like to keep my tracks in the snow,
but they always shovel up snow,
and the gardens are green again.