A man of words and not of deeds,
It's like a garden full of weeds.
It's like a garden full of snow.
It's like a bird upon the wall.
It's like an eagle in the sky.
It's like a lion at the door.
It's like a stick across your back.
It's like a penknife in your heart.
You're dead ... And dead ... and dead indeed.
It's like a garden full of weeds.
.
And when the weeds begin to grow, It's like a garden full of snow.
.
And when the snow begins to fall, It's like a bird upon the wall.
.
And when the bird away does fly, It's like an eagle in the sky.
.
And when the sky begins to roar, It's like a lion at the door.
.
And when the door begins to crack, It's like a stick across your back.
.
And when your back begins to smart, It's like a penknife in your heart.
.
And when your heart begins to bleed, You're dead ... And dead ... and dead indeed.
John Fletcher....
