I spent my nights in a dark room booth
Projecting frames of a hidden truth
Now I walk through the broken pane
Where the soil drinks the summer rain
The Calathea has lost its gold
The iron frames are rusted and old
I touch the peat with a shaking hand
A lonely ghost in a forgotten land
Cracked glass garden in the pale grey light
Bringing colors back into my sight
Green velvet leaves in a heavy haze
I am lost inside a floral maze
The Philodendron climbs the wall
I watch the yellow petals fall
I speak in Latin to the root
Waiting for the kind of winter fruit
Cracked glass garden in the pale grey light
Bringing colors back into my sight
Green velvet leaves in a heavy haze
I am lost inside a floral maze
The projector hums in my tired head
While the potting mix is turning red
I see the flicker of a silver screen
Mixed with every shade of forest green
I prune the stems of the dying rose
Where the wild ivy softly grows
I trade the film for a wooden rake
For a kind of peace I cannot fake
The Alocasia stands so tall
Shadows stretching across the hall
I plant a seed in the heavy clay
To keep the winter cold away
Cracked glass garden in the pale grey light
Bringing colors back into my sight
Green velvet leaves in a heavy haze
I am lost inside a floral maze
Just a little more water now
I can feel the green leaf bow Cracked glass garden...
Stay with me.
