Mother, oh Father, where did you go?
I hear the flowers as they speak below.
Someone help me, I'm so afraid,
The shape in the distance is coming my way.

"Oh please, come hold me," said the woman.
I'm coming to leave,
Oh please, come again.
The man with the roses that grow from his head.

I'm your gardener.
I'm your gardener.
I'm your gardener.

Mother, your poor hands,
the better to hold yours again.
And where did he go?
I am him, my love, watch my garden grow.

Little girl, sitting there with your daddy's skin and your mother's hair.
I'll have you know I'll be there until my roses, when you're next.
I am the noises that you hear when you're in bed,
and I'll be the last thing that you see before your dead.

With your father gone and your mom in chains,
have trouble trying to sleep at night.

Your mother never looks so good.
Your daddy should've brought his gun.
Now sleep child, just sleep,
and when you wake, you will grow at my feet.

Yes, when you wake, you'll be beautiful again.
I am your gardener.