Better off a Prodigal Son

Seems hard to enjoy my Sunday Garden
Those broken dreams tend to harden
But for a house so dark and empty
My Sunday Garden like a foggy sea,

Somehow misty and alien to me
Can't seem to shake her memory
As though by some evil decree
Sunday Garden with no one to share,

There's just nobody there
Even the birds separate into pairs
For some remaining together is despair
While for others divorce is a nightmare,

My Sunday Garden like a mirage
Like digging through junk in a garage
Like life's troubles we try to dodge
Maybe I should vacation at a lodge,

My Sunday Garden in exile
Just let me rest here for a while
Shouldn't have given in to her style
Heartbreak we create in such denial,

It's just the landscape on an alien planet
Oh Baby don't get so upset
Obviously you have no regrets
By all of this emotion we are beset,

My Sunday Garden in a sea of the lost
Sentimentality at such a cost
Lord, whose path have I crossed?
My raft in a stormy sea being tossed,

This world of illusion we participate in
Always oblivious to committing sin
It's 3 AM Baby where have you been?
You left a man with a heart of rusted tin,

My Sunday Garden maybe I'll get a pardon
You so easily came undone

Forced to live with feelings on the run
Would have been better off a prodigal son.