My Garden
Written by, Marci Hanshue
Copyright, March 25, 2001

Long ago I dreamed you were a king
And I must be the unworthy
Everything I wanted was so far away
nothing to need inside of me
I should have thought twice when
You wouldn't wear your crown
Still, part of me wondered
If your feet touched the ground

You cut me off before I could tell you
You've held a place here in my heart





It was naive of me to think
our conversations would ever last
Anything I muttered drifted away
Now it's in the distant past
I should have thought twice when
I thought I might be heard
Should have expected you
to own the last words

You cut me off before I could tell you
You've held a place here in my heart





And I've planted this garden for you, with the seeds that you left me, isn't that what I'm to do
I've planted this garden for you, come sit in my garden won't you
And I've planted this garden for you, with the seeds that you left me, isn't that what I'm to do
I've planted this garden for you, come sit in my garden won't you

You showered your seeds with abandon
Much too green to foresee your legacy
The fruit has ripened one by one
Now here it is dropping at your feet...

You cut me off before I could tell you
You've held a place here in my heart

And I've planted this garden for you...
Come sit in my garden won't you...

Stories By Marci
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You were always a dreamer
You were always a little like me
Our dreams were what held us together
Now we're coming apart at the seams

Always looking at the big picture
When it came to our hearts we were blind
We roam the same halls in our designer digs
But there's no common ground in our minds

Why are  we so content to play out this charade
Pretending that love...dwells in this place

Cause that's...not where we live
We live where it's hard to tell it like it is
Where the words "I love you" are rarely ever heard--
Where memories of "I do" are faded & blurred
Yeah that's...that's where we live

I feel these walls closing in on me
A little more everyday
What seemed so important once upon a time
Seems so insignificant today

I still hold you in my arms
My life's sweetest mystery
I can still hear the sound of your beating heart
And know it's not beating for me
Why are we so content to play out this charade
Pretending that love...dwells in this place

Cause that's...not where we live
We live where it's hard to tell it like it is
Where the words "I love you" are rarely ever heard--Where memories of "I do" are faded and blurred
Ya that's...that's where we live

Why are we so content to play out this charade
Pretending that love...dwells in this place...
Not Where We Live
Written by,
Marci Hanshue & 233Linda
Copyright, 2002
Stories By Marci
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