Will I become like the old man from next door? Obsessed with the fear of losing his mind, He soon couldn't take care of himself anymore. He had no friends or relatives to look after him, Only once a week some male nurse dropped in. He was found in his bed, dehydrated... Unconscious, as he was, they brought him to a diffrent place. "We've never heard of him since..." He lived alone in his house for most of his life, And I wouldn't be suprised, If he had died the day they put him in a room With people he'd never seen before. He had a wild garden behind his house, beautiful and dark. Woodpeckers and squirrels lived there, And hedgehogs, mice and martens. Hazelnut-trees and wild strawberries grew, And cherries, and apples and pears, and currants of red and black... All hidden in this private place. In the safety of the shadows the fragile fern slept, Along the winding paths the wild-flowers wept, Snowdrops nodded their little heads in spring, Forget-me-nots, and all kinds of things, Of which I do not know the names... And, of course, there was ivy everywhere. It happend the same week they took him away Workers hacked down all of the trees in the garden, Hired by the envious people outside who had always been terrified By the beauty that enchanted this place, And the darkness it was breathing. Yet, none of them could keep the DEAD BIRDS FROM SINGING...
https://primoaccordo.net/sopor-aeternus-and-the-ensemble-of-shadows/skeletal-garden.htm