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Текст песни The Gathering - Analog Park

The Gathering - Analog Park слова песни




In the garden, in the park, on a bench, I sit.A newspaper floats on the breeze of this late summer.It is coming my way,I patiently wait.I see the sign, it`s on the roadand I think it`s crazyIn the garden, of the park, on a bench, I watch.The sandy feet of the children.Pearls of sweat run across their beautiful faces.You see the sign, it`s on the roadbut I think you`re crazyYou are, you are the signof my unreliefAs I easily get inner contact with myself,I notice distress grabbing for my throat.It is time to reach out.To find something that isn`t there,You see the signs, they`re on the roadbut I think it`s crazyYou are, you are the signof my unrelief

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