I got 20/20 vision when both my eyes are open
But when I close my left eye, I see the right one’s broken
One compensates for the other’s short-sightedness
Some estimate, but I am the only eye-witness
To my impacted cornea, this blurry euphoria
When I look through the telescope with the wrong eye
The asteroid looks like another star in the sky
My depth perception represents
A introspection of events
That led us to being retroactively screwed
If we kept both eyes open, we’d have less attitude
About the current situation that we find ourselves in
We’d see it coming a mile away before it could begin
But despite the promise, this would not be the year
To have perfect vision, the irony’s clear
We get a laugh at that over soup with drowning bat
Oh wait, there’s a hair in it, send it back
I could go on and on and on and on and on
In this song so long I yawn “come on” get on with it
And then I remember I got nowhere to be
I give in, I surrender to relativity
I’ll just sit on my ass ‘till the skin around it harden’s
But hey, at least I got a garden

(CHORUS)
At least I got a garden to enjoy the fresh air
At least I got a garden to wait out the scare
At least I got a garden to pretend I’m debonair
Tanning in my underwear, without a single care (X2)


I can only imagine how hard it must be
To not feel the soft breeze whenever you please
If you’re stuck in some block feeling like livestock
Then by now you want me to get off my crock
I don’t mean for the mention of my garden to be boastful
It does seem my intention shouldn’t hearken being noble
But when was having a garden a luxury?
“Since we’re now social distancing?”
Oh I see
Yeah fair enough, you guys have it tough
You need a telescope to see the diamond in the ruff
And you can’t even afford it on the furlough scheme
The inferno seems like such a pleasant place to visit
At least Dante got seven circles, one’s your limit (NINE ASSHOLE)
Just waiting for limp tactics to finally pivot
Can drive you crazy, as the days get hazy
They turn into weeks and the weeks turn into minutes
And we forget the regret the government fails to exhibit
Whenever there’s a new reason for contemplating treason
And they bribe Santa to tell us “‘tis NOT the season”
So when should we protest? When everyone’s dead?
Though it’s hard to argue with a bunch of hollow heads
When you lounge in your birthday-adjacent suit
Avoiding dispute with acutely stupid people’s a hoot
I can just win arguments with the echoes of my mind
And agree with my kind that the proletariat’s blind
In my little patch of paradise, that clarifies my appetite
To sanctify my human right to be secure day and night
It might not impress King Louis the 14th
But I don’t care for the royals grinning with their false teeth
I only dress to impress when I’m feeling depressed
So don’t you bless this whole mess I confess is unstressed
With the flora and the fauna, a plethora of the former
And the latter looking dapper as they traverse the borders
I might not be well-equipped for when the world around me darkens
But I’ll be okay, someday,’cause hey, at least I got a garden

(CHORUS)


And as the day turns into night
I only just wonder what day is right
Turns out it’s Thursday
We support it in the worst way
And clap for the NHS
#blessed