The Garden

t's late July, crowds roll by your town.
 Your garden is grown.
 Blackbird is seen, from the highest tree,
 of the stone-bridge leads to the road.
 Your daddy is cryin', 'cause mother, she's dyin',
 Ain't no cancer, that eats at your soul,
 And I'm off to the war, to make d___ sure
 they don't come 'round here, no more.
 Daddy, all right, tells our mother tonight,
 "I'm just a garden that grows on the lawn."
 The sweet breeze don't blow, like it does back home.
 'Cause we're ain't nothin' but b______s and boys.
 Son now, all right, your mother died here tonight,
 in the garden, the blackbird does fly.
 Spoke of Ohio, a cold, breezy dawn,
 and a son that's fightin' in the war.
 Ain't no exit I see, from this black where I breathe
 and the garden, is a thousand miles gone.
 Mother just died, with a heart dark as mine,
 of the stone-bridge, leads to the road.
 Daddy's done cryin', 'cause mother's done dyin'.
 oh, the cancer, has eaten her whole.
 But I'm stuck in this war, to make d___ sure
 they don't come, they don't come...
 Where the blackbird sang and now lives at her grave.
 And the garden has grown itself dry.
 If I ever get home, from this terror I've known,
 go to the garden, go to the garden,
 and I'll wait there to die.