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The streets are always wet with rain |
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After a summer shower when I saw you standin' |
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Standin' in the garden, in the garden wet with rain |
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You wiped the teardrops from your eye in sorrow |
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Yeah we watched the petals fall down to the ground |
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And as I sat beside you I felt the great sadness that day |
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In the garden |
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And then one day you came back home |
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You were a creature all in rapture |
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You had the key to your soul and you did open |
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That day you came back to the garden |
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The olden summer breeze was blowin' against your face, alright |
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The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine |
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And you were a violet colour as you sat beside your father |
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And your mother in the garden |
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The summer breeze was blowin' on your face |
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Within your violet you treasure your summery words |
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And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine |
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Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden |
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And you went into a trance, your childlike vision became so fine |
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And we heard the bells within the church, we loved so much |
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And felt the presence of the youth of eternal summers in the garden |
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Alright, and as it touched your cheeks so lightly |
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Born again you were and blushed |
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And we touched each other lightly |
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And we felt the presence of the Christ |
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Within our hearts in the garden |
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And I turned to you and I said |
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"No guru, no method, no teacher |
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Just you and I and nature |
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And the Father in the garden" |
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Listen, no guru, no method, no teacher |
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Just you and I and nature |
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And the Father and the Son |
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And the Holy Ghost in the garden wet with rain |
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No guru, no method, no teacher |
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Just you and I and nature |
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And the Father and the Son |
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And the Holy Ghost in the garden |
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In the garden wet with rain |
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No guru, no method, no teacher |
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Just you and I and nature |
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And the Father in the garden |
