Old Chokes

Withering in gardens left dry
Withering in gardens left dry
I'm still soaked from their old chokes

Oh what a mess
Oh what a mess I've made now
Oh what a mess
Oh what a mess of things I've made now

It's such a shame; all that dirt couldn't grow
I put the blame all on the shine and less the soil
We must wilt away if we wish to someday grow
But I've wilted and waned over and over

The soil is as far as I can go
The soil is as far as I can go
The soil is as far as I can go
The soil is as far as I can go

That night I lied awake thinking over things
So fixed and quick to burst into blame
At any loss of control, without sense of self
It shrouds and distills; it stings and it welts
Though all our plans were dense with trees
I discerned only leaves that were brittle and creased
As I just lied awake overthinking things
Life still went on with or without