The Gardener - Punch Brothers

There’re all kinds of roses

But none are as handsome as the ones

That you own hands have grown

They bring as much hope

Leave as much satisfaction

As anything I’ve ever known

But it ain’t in their petals

That I’m seeking the fortune

It’s in the weeds and the hedges and lawns

Of the fortunate people

Who can stand in their gardens

And feel only time marching on

With the world on a string

To remind them of where they can go

And what they oughta be

Without a whole lot to say

To the fella they pay

To cut the grass growing underneath their feet

A rose can’t see its own beauty

Or feel what it’s meant to symbolize

It doesn’t stop and smell anything on its journey

From the soil to the light

Just wants the best for itself and its family

And God help me so do I

And so does everybody

So I head out each morning

With a smile and a wave

For whomever looks up from their work

'Cause who knows in a while

It could be my own child

With the world on a string

To remind her of where she can go

And what she oughta be

Without a whole lot to say

To the fella she pays

To cut the grass growing underneath her feet

May green grow the grass undernath our children’s feet