Beyond the Garden
That Wasn't There

At the end of the path
Where the hedges withdrew
Stood a gate without walls
With the evening behind it turned blue

No lock in the iron
No mark in the stone
Still it opened before me
As though I had always been known

Through the bars was a river
Moving under the sky
And a village of windows
With their lanterns beginning to rise

There were bridges of branches
There were stairs in the rain
There were bells without towers
Calling something that sounded like my name

I looked behind me
The pathway had gone
The leaves stood quietly
As though nothing was wrong

The gate opens inward
The night opens wide
The garden falls silent
On the opposite side

The gate opens inward
Without wall, without key
And the road that begins there
Starts remembering me

Every doorway was breathing
Every roof seemed to lean
And the moon in the water
Showed a place that the daylight had never seen

Something moved in the windows
Then withdrew from the light
Like a room had remembered me
From another version of night

No voice invited me
No hand appeared
Still every doorway
Felt strangely near

The gate opens inward
The night opens wide
The garden falls silent
On the opposite side

The gate opens inward
Without wall, without key
And the road that begins there
Starts remembering me

No wall
No key
No garden behind me

No path
No sign
Only the village ahead in the night

The gate opened inward
The night opened wide
And something I carried
Was left on the other side

The gate opened inward
Then vanished from view
As the road through the village
Began walking me through

Lanterns below the water
Burn without smoke or flame
Each one carries a picture
Each one whispers a name

One holds a room in winter
One holds a field in rain
One shows a face in a mirror
Then quietly changes again

I reach through the silver current
But the light moves further below
The surface remains unbroken
Though my hand has nowhere to go

Under the bridge the reflections
Are travelling against the stream
Carrying unopened letters
From the outskirts of a dream

Lanterns below the water
Where the drowned hours shine
Some of them carry your memories
Some of them might be mine

Lanterns below the water
Moving too slowly to see
One of them opens its window
And something looks up at me

The houses beside the river
Dim as the lanterns pass
Their windows repeat every movement
Then hide it beneath the glass

A figure of pale reflection
Walks where the river is deep
Pointing beyond the village
Toward something beginning to sleep

Lanterns below the water
Where the drowned hours shine
Some of them carry your memories
Some of them might be mine

Lanterns below the water
Turning beneath the blue
One of them shows me the garden
Although it was never true

If the river remembers
What the daylight forgets
Then every light underneath it
Is something that has not happened yet

If I follow the current
Past the root and the stone
Will it carry me deeper
Or quietly carry me home?

Lanterns below the water
Drifting beyond the bend
Each one begins as a memory
Then becomes something else in the end

Lanterns below the water
Fading without a sound
While the moon in the river
Keeps sinking further down

The first house leans toward me
With ivy across its eyes
Its chimney releases circles
That turn into evening skies

The doorway is painted yellow
The staircase gives a sigh
And somewhere behind the curtains
A sleeping piano replies

The next house smells of apples
And rain on a bedroom wall
A clock with a flower for each hand
Has forgotten to move at all

A chair faces into a corner
A book lies open and warm
Its pages are filled with weather
From before I had taken form

No one lives there
No one has gone
Still every room
Has been waiting too long

The houses are made of sleep
Their foundations are buried deep
Every room is a dream someone lost
Every door remembers the cost

The houses are made of sleep
And the promises nobody keeps
When the windows begin to glow
They reveal what you tried not to know

One room contains my footsteps
Arriving before I came
Another contains a photograph
With a stranger wearing my name

A cupboard breathes like an animal
The wallpaper opens its leaves
And under the floor a chorus
Repeats what no one believes

Nothing accuses me
Nothing denies
Still every object
Is watching inside

The houses are made of sleep
Their foundations are buried deep
Every room is a dream someone lost
Every door remembers the cost

The houses are made of sleep
And the promises nobody keeps
When the windows begin to glow
They reveal what you tried not to know

Somewhere a kettle is singing
Somewhere a cradle is stirred
Somewhere a family is waiting
For someone who never occurred

The ceilings rise into branches
The carpets unfold into fields
And all of the walls become gardens
The moment I ask what is real

These houses are made of sleep
With their roots in the river deep
Every room is a dream left behind
By a life that escaped from the mind

Інструментальна композиція — тексту пісні чи субтитрів немає.

Every window knows my name
Though no mouth has made the claim
Curtains move before I pass
Faces gather in the glass

Some are young and some are old
Some look warm and some look cold
Some are dressed in borrowed years
Some are smiling through my fear

In one room I watch myself
Place a picture on a shelf
In another, years have passed
And I am looking through the glass

Every house contains a part
Of an unfamiliar heart
Every room appears to know
Where I came from long ago

I cover my eyes
The windows remain
I hold back my voice
They answer my name

Every window knows my name
Every reflection does the same
But none of the faces belong to me
And none of them turn when I try to leave

Every window holds a light
From another version of the night
I pass through the village, door by door
And each one remembers me more

At the centre of the square
Stands a house without a stair
All its windows face within
Toward a room beneath the skin

On the wall a portrait grows
Changing every time I move
First a child and then a tree
Then the empty shape of me

You have been here before.
Not in time.
Not in memory.
Somewhere underneath them both.

Every window knows my name
Every reflection does the same
But none of the faces belong to me
And none of them turn when I try to leave

Every window holds a light
From another version of the night
I pass through the village, door by door
And each one remembers me more

Name in the water
Name in the wall
Name in the roots
Underneath it all

Name in the lantern
Name in the rain
Name in the silence
Before I was named

I call through the window
The room calls back
Its voice is mine
But the words are cracked

Every window knows my name
But I no longer know the same
The face in the glass has begun to appear
On the wrong side of the mirror

Every window dims its light
As the village closes for the night
One final curtain begins to fall

Behind it, I am watching it all

I sleep beneath a leaning tree
Beside the silent square
The moon is hanging from a thread
The river climbs the air

The houses close their wooden eyes
The bridges fold away
And somewhere in the roots below
The streets begin to change

The northern road becomes the south
The clock moves through the wall
The tallest tower bends its roof
And makes itself grow small

The river loosens from its banks
And circles every door
While stairways wander through the streets
To houses not there before

The village turns while I dream
Nothing remains where it seemed
The river changes its course
The houses return to their source

The village turns while I sleep
Carrying everything deep
When morning opens its eyes
The streets will remember new skies

I wake inside a different room
With leaves across the floor
The window shows the place outside
Where I had slept before

A figure rests beneath the tree
Its face turned from the light
I call to it and hear my voice
Return from every height

The village turns while I dream
Nothing remains where it seemed
The river changes its course
The houses return to their source

The village turns while I sleep
Carrying everything deep
When morning opens its eyes
The streets will remember new skies

Turn the bridge
Turn the stream
Turn the sleeper
Turn the dream

Move the doorway
Move the tree
Move the village
Leave the key

Turn the window
Turn the rain
Turn the memory
Keep the name

Turn the garden
Turn the ground
Turn until the lost is found

The village turns while I dream
Breaking the shape of the scene
The moon is below and above
The streets are remembering us

The village turns while I sleep
Planting its roots in the deep
And when I awaken again
The houses are under my skin

Turn the bridge
Turn the stream

Turn the sleeper
Keep the dream

I find the path where it had ended
Folded beneath the morning air
The gate remains without a garden
Opening onto nothing there

Inside the glass the seed is turning
Though no root or leaf can show
A tiny light moves through its centre
Like a place preparing to grow

Beyond the garden that wasn't there
The houses breathe beneath the air
The river keeps what daylight loses
The village dreams and never chooses

Beyond the garden that wasn't there
The road continues everywhere
You leave believing you have woken
Carrying something unopened

I step across the empty threshold
The gate dissolves behind my hand
The familiar trees stand waiting
In the place I called the land

But every leaf contains a window
Every root conceals a door
And underneath the ordinary silence
I hear the village once more

Beyond the garden that wasn't there
The moon still burns beneath the air
The lanterns travel through the water
Carrying every dream we alter

Beyond the garden that wasn't there
The houses wait in rooms of air
You leave believing you have ended
What has only been extended

Where is the garden?
Under the town.

Where is the village?
Under the ground.

Where is the river?
Under the sky.

Where is the sleeper?
Opening an eye.

What was the garden?
A doorway in green.

What was the village?
The garden's dream.

The garden dreamed the village.
The village dreamed the road.
The road dreamed the traveller.
The traveller carried it home.

Beyond the garden that wasn't there
A thousand windows fill the air
Each one opens for a moment
On every life we never share

Beyond the garden that wasn't there
Nothing vanishes anywhere
It only changes its reflection
And waits for someone else to stare

All along...
A road was growing.

All along...
The river knew.

All along...
The gate stood open.

Waiting for me.
Waiting for you.