| My grandmother’s house is still there but it isn’t the same
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| A plain wooden cottage, a patch of brown lawn
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| And a fence that hangs standing and sighing in the Seattle rain
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| I drive past the strangers and wish they could see what I see
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| A tangle of summer birds flying in sunlight
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| A forest of lilies, an orchard of apricot trees
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| Secret gardens of the heart where the flowers bloom forever
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| I see you shining through the night in the ice and snow of winter
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| Great grandfather’s house is still there but it isn’t the same
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| The barn is torn down and the fences are gone
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| The Idaho wind blows the topsoil away every spring
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| I still see the ghosts of the people I knew long ago
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| Inside the old kitchen they bend and they sigh
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| My life passed them up and the world in it’s way passed them by
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| Secret gardens of the heart where the old stay young forever
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| I see you shining through the night in the ice and snow of winter
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| But most of all it is me who has changed but I’m still the same
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| That’s me at the weddings, that’s me at the graves
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| Dressed like the people who once looked so grown up and brave
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| I look in the mirror through the eyes of the child that was me
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| I see willows bending, the season is spring
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| Silver blue sailing birds fly with the sun on their wings
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| Secret gardens of the heart where the dreams live on forever
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| I see you shining through the night in the ice and snow of winter
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| Secret gardens of the heart where the flowers bloom forever
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| I see you shining through the night in the ice and snow of winter |