I'm the garden you plantnthe son of a mannthe first grain of sandnnI was out in the coldnthe December snownwhen they closed down the roadsnnThat's not you lying in those clothesnJust a figure of a man I used to knownYou sow all the seeds and they grow into menand now it's time for you to plant another rownnI'm a half-written bookna fish on the hooknthe first of two looksnnI'm a broken machinenand old trampoline with some rusted out springsnnI'm a bottled up notena song you once wrote filled with old anicdotesnnYou're a memory from a photograph I foundnA broken picture frame lying on the groundnI'm forced to believe in something that can't benIn a world that won't wait for me to come around.