In The Garden
Welcome to the garden, the clown announced:
The beer is cold, the shots are straight,
The sex is free, there's no need to wait.
Come on in, your demons run free in the garden.
Passion breeds fear, and carefree we forget.
Feel your soul alive, see the drifting haze,
We all get high in our own fucked up ways
Everyone is left to die in the garden.
The music's loud, hard and fast we fly
Screams no one can hear,
It's all an inferno fear
Higher and higher, till you crash again in the garden.
DW
© 1993
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