This house
Is supposed to be on sale
No one will buy it ‘cause it’s still alive, see, it’s breathing

Out in the garden the brushwood is guardian
The fir keeps the locks and the keys

See the rows of monks and fiends – the ancient breed
It’s not a proper view - it’s what they call a glimpse

This house
With all windows open wide
No one is leaning out, I feel spied on though it’s empty

I stand outside maybe wasting my time
But I would never dare to get in

Hear the toll, the mighty bell - the dead men knell
You know – I can’t decide – if this is gloom or shine

And the iron gate
Was left half-open oneday
And the old church
Which is nearby
Is posing as though it is right

This house
Has a large mouth and wide eyes
Someone once told me it spends sleepless nights sine requie

I’m still expecting that something may happen
A sudden attack from behind

No, I know, it won’t occur – the mind is blurred
The souls – the eerie site – it’s only a creepy fright