Garden Bed from Different Streets by The Tambourine Girls

They say you’re suffering
The sweetest kind of illness of the brain
And there’s no way you’ll ever go insane
While I’m a loser
I feel it all and let it all hang out
And pay for it with all the things I doubt

But your head is buried in my Garden
It wasn’t me who put it there
Cause I didn’t make it but I like to be
Polite and beg your pardon

And each one’s a prayer
I shoot it out where I can never see
I like to make a fool out of me
To get the sting inside
I’ve wrestled with my eagle far too long
I’ll say I did it all for a song

But don’t you go thinking that I love you
I would like to mean it and for you to receive it
But I honestly believe that I’m above you

• Alternative
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• Armidale