The Garden
In this one of many possible worlds, all for the best, or some bizarre test?It is what it is - and whateverTime is still the infinite jest
The arrow flies when you dream, the hours tick away - the cells tick awayThe Watchmaker keeps to his schemesThe hours tick away - they tick away
The measure of a life is a measure of love and respectSo hard to earn, so easily burnedIn the fullness of timeA garden to nurture and protect
In the rise and the set of the sun'Til the stars go spinning - spinning 'round the nightIt is what it is - and foreverEach moment a memory in flight
The arrow flies while you breathe, the hours tick away - the cells tick awayThe Watchmaker has time up his sleeveThe hours tick away - they tick away
The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respectThe way you live, the gifts that you giveIn the fullness of timeIts the only return that you expect
The future disappears into memoryWith only a moment betweenForever dwells in that momentHope is what remains to be seen