Jennifer Rostock U.S.
Der Gärtner

The window is half-opened, the curtain barely trembles
The last breath of my trust fills the room
It lies silently on the floor next to strange women’s lingerie
And your alibis don’t make any sense
Beaten to death from an ambush
My trust lies in pale light
And one thing’s for sure: The gardener – it wasn’t him!

We love the murder, we punish the murderer
Until it all falls apart
We love the murder, we punish the murderer
Until it all falls the apart
Hope dies last, but it dies
And the gardener – it wasn’t him!

It smells like honey and coffee, the world wakes up happily
The sun dances through the room, but the idyll is deceiving
The clock tower rings ominously
Brings the dead on a tray
The patience that I provided lies dead in bed
Poisoned over years, in short sight and the long run
And one thing’s for sure: The gardener – it wasn’t him!

We love the murder …

The room is dying, the clock tower rings again
The moonlight lies in shards
Scattered wildly on the floor
Revenge tastes best when it’s hot
And that’s the kicker
Because you lie dead on the sofa
Shot to death in the middle of the face
And the gardener – it wasn’t him!

We love the murder …