Obsessed with 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 have never heard of him since..."
He lived alone in his house for most of his life, and I wouldn't be surprised, If he had died the same day they put him in a room with the people he'd never seem before.
He had a wild garden behind his house... so beautiful and dark. woodpeckers and squirrels lived there, and hedgehogs, mice and martens. Hazelnut-trees and wild strawberries grew, and cherries, 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 noddled their little heads in spring, 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 the trees in the garden... hired by the envious people outside... who had always 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...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
