Instead of a Head

This is not my secret garden hiding in the space behind my wall.
This is not the house I think I grew up in, it looks nothing like it at all.
And when I shook you, man, demanding answers, well I guess you gave me some,
But you gave me none that I could use.
Not one that meant a thing to me.
Not one that matches up to my memory.
You are not my crooked sibling lying through your teeth to get away.
This might be that hole I dug, but that’s not why I traveled all this way.
This looks like my vicious circle, though I’ve thought that many times before.
This is not the house I think I grew up in, it looks nothing like it all.
And when I shook you man, demanding answers, well I guess you gave me some,
But you gave me none that I could use.
Not one that meant a thing to me.
Not one that matches up to my memory.
Instead of a head, I grew a camera.
No need to toss and turn, stare all you want.
No, it’s no big deal now.
I can never recall but I always remember.