The Garden

The Garden - Vic Chesnutt

Pus on your finger

Mud on your mind

The tiller is broken

Your garden is crying

There's been too much rain

Tomatoes they split

Spring was a beauty but

She turned into a beast

Your boy is rebellious

He refuses to work

Your daughter is a fine one

But allergic to dirt

The preacher came a calling

He wants a fresh ham

Your wife she obliges

And does the one you was saving

So you piddle

In the garden

You pick at the ground

Your family is fighting

Oh but you don't hear a sound