The crystal, clear, blue sky
The beautiful emerald rye
The rusty, red iron
Off of the gate with siren
The stones are stacked majestically high
Making people whisper under their breah, "My, oh, my."
The bricks of the house are crimson red
Like the red cardinals that are fed
The leaves fall endlessly and gracefully
From the trees who blow marvelously
Beautiful flowers are planted neatly
With colors from red to blue to their greenery
There are cute pots and huge extraordinary barrels
Full of golden daffodils singing carols
And walls and walls full of vine
Writing to pretty women, "Will you be mine?"
They bloom beautiful flowers that look like fire
Passers look in awe as they would a sire
Then there are angels with eyes of steel
Sorrow and joy you'll most likely feel
But you notice they're just concrete and stone
Watching and guarding the garden and the gate all alone
The wind blows breezy over a hammock made of rope and twine
It was crafted carefully, it was so fine
The faded old light pole shimmers over a single rose plant
'Twas so striking, ignore it you shan't
Now there's a couple sitting on the old stones benches
As the rain begins to pours and drenches
The droplets trickle down the glass window
And secretly from the inside watches a widow
Watching over the garden and the gate
The beautiful emerald rye
The rusty, red iron
Off of the gate with siren
The stones are stacked majestically high
Making people whisper under their breah, "My, oh, my."
The bricks of the house are crimson red
Like the red cardinals that are fed
The leaves fall endlessly and gracefully
From the trees who blow marvelously
Beautiful flowers are planted neatly
With colors from red to blue to their greenery
There are cute pots and huge extraordinary barrels
Full of golden daffodils singing carols
And walls and walls full of vine
Writing to pretty women, "Will you be mine?"
They bloom beautiful flowers that look like fire
Passers look in awe as they would a sire
Then there are angels with eyes of steel
Sorrow and joy you'll most likely feel
But you notice they're just concrete and stone
Watching and guarding the garden and the gate all alone
The wind blows breezy over a hammock made of rope and twine
It was crafted carefully, it was so fine
The faded old light pole shimmers over a single rose plant
'Twas so striking, ignore it you shan't
Now there's a couple sitting on the old stones benches
As the rain begins to pours and drenches
The droplets trickle down the glass window
And secretly from the inside watches a widow
Watching over the garden and the gate
