The Gathering - Analog Park lyrics

In the garden, in the park, on a bench, I sit
A newspaper floats on the breeze
Of this late summer it is coming my way
I patiently wait

I see the sign, it's on the road
And I think it's crazy

In the garden, of the park, on a bench
I watch the sandy feet of the children
Pearls of sweat run across
Their beautiful faces
You see the sign, it's on the road
But, I think you're crazy

You are, you are the sign of my unrelief

As I easily get inner contact with myself
I notice distress grabbing for my throat
It is time to reach out
To find something that isn't there

You see the signs, they're on the road
But, I think it's crazy

You are, you are the sign of my unrelief