| [02:43.34] |
True I was a gardener once upon a time |
| [02:57.96] |
When the world was young and all the earth was mine |
| [03:12.61] |
Mine to tend to to plough and to sow |
| [03:26.85] |
Before mankind came and rendered all things low |
| [03:41.25] |
And beauty was it's first name by this I would call |
| [03:55.75] |
And ready the harvest for one and for all |
| [04:38.32] |
The orchards and the wheat fields which could of fed the world |
| [04:52.26] |
Were divided up like money and sold through human slaves |
| [05:06.96] |
The rivers fresh the hillsides that had no need of name |
| [05:21.29] |
Now ran red with the life blood and drunk with guilty shame |
| [05:35.59] |
The gentle bough was broken and twisted out of shape |
| [05:42.14] |
And who knows the consequences when the bough doth break |
| [05:49.35] |
The mother soil which reared it's young now reared her angry head |
| [05:56.85] |
And rain fell down like teardrops upon the flower beds |
| [06:03.39] |
The blame for this I'm in no doubt is mine and mine alone |
| [06:17.57] |
But so proud was I of my work I had to share it's growth |
| [06:31.58] |
This true I was a gardener in the time before the flood |
| [06:45.88] |
Now these green fingers of mine are stained by angels' blood |
