Analog Park Songtext
von The Gathering

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
You are, you are the sign
Of my unrelief

You are, you are the sign
Of my unrelief
You are, you are the sign
Of my unrelief
You are, you are the sign
Of my unrelief