I'm the garden you plant   the son of a man   the first grain of sand      I was out in the cold   the December snow   when they closed down the roads      That's not you lying in those clothes   Just a figure of a man I used to know   You sow all the seeds and they grow into me   and now it's time for you to plant another row      I'm a half-written book   a fish on the hook   the first of two looks      I'm a broken machine   and old trampoline with some rusted out springs      I'm a bottled up note   a song you once wrote filled with old anicdotes      You're a memory from a photograph I found   A broken picture frame lying on the ground   I'm forced to believe in something that can't be   In a world that won't wait for me to come around.