Brown Thumb

A few months in, I've let my garden go, oh no It's become overrun and dry as toast I try to feed my worms, grow all the good germs, oh yeah But I've got other things to do I've made mistakes I've wilted trees, veggies, and flowers ...such a shame I've got good dirt I read the books and prayed for showers For hours, oh I dreamed a compost pile that's miles and miles high I woke up with a song right in my mind But when I sat my ass down, picked up a guitar, oh no I found my hands couldn't play it after all I've made mistakes I've written songs with special powers Then forgot 'em all I've got the words Got melodies but they've turned sour So sour, oh I've planted seeds I've kissed the bees But I'm still stuck with My brown thumb I've picked the weeds I've murdered fleas But I'm still stuck with My brown thumb I've written poems Lived as a gnome But I'm still stuck with My brown thumb Gone on the run Banged on a drum But I'm still stuck with This old brown thumb