From the recording Tales from the Self-Help Section
Lyrics
“garden” (s. fisher/j. jackson)
started writing it in a loft in Victoria, BC on 07/07/16, finished in an office in Wichita, KS & a living
room in Parsons, KS on 08/06/16
Got my hands dirty diggin' a garden
But I'm never there to see it grow
Was it too much to ask to be here for a moment?
To experience what I have sown
I didn't intend to be your Chambord
I only know how to run like the Seine
Shame on me for thinkin' that I could be more
Than the son of a son of a running man
It's hard to imagine her face at daybreak
The sheets are drawn; my pillow's cold
And I don't know how much more of it I can take
This running game's got a hold of my soul
I didn't intend to settle the score
It's hard enough just finding a friend
I'm tired of fighting a vagabond's war
'cause I was born with the blood of a running man
My shadow creeps
My soul it sneaks around
My feet fall weak
When they're on solid ground
I didn't intend to be your Chambord
'Cause these legs of mine, they just run like the Seine
Shame on me for thinking that I could be more
Than the son of a son of a son of a son of a running man