here i am, the guardian of the golden grain

a man but not a man who has a brain

i'll see a million suns till i feel pain flood the whole world down the drain

when the light is gone, and all that's left is thunder

still, i won't even shiver when it rains

and all the birds fly home for winter

and i'm still caught up in the spring

it seems that with a single sigh, the whole world turns to pass me by

i wish i could've shivered when it rained

the farmer's dog sinks her teeth into my leg

leaves pinholes blooming fields of poppies red

my skin is a garden grown of memories shed through the blood i have not bled

of tattered clothes and straw

but what's the point in planting if a feeling cannot flower within my head?

and all the birds fly home for winter

and i'm still caught up in the spring

it seems that with a single sigh, the whole world turns to pass me by

i wish i could've shivered when it rained

my legs are a bench for all of the friends i haven't made yet

my chest is a bed for a heart that isn't here to rest

my hands are a perch for the crows that come to peck, but they're all long gone and dead

so really, what am i?

but a sack of sticks and hay

i bet i don't even have a silhouette

and all the birds fly home for winter

and i'm still caught up in the spring

it seems that with a single sigh, the whole world turns to pass me by

i wish i could've shivered when it rained

i wish i could've shivered when it rained

i wish i could've shivered when it rained