The airplane is running late—
it lands when it lands.
I will phone you as soon as possible.
I so know how that ends—
you do not answer—
and you do not answer—
you do not answer.
Then I take a taxi—
and I don't even know where I'm going.
I think about it
and here I phone you—
I do not answer—
and I do not answer—
I do not answer.
It is a bit like kindergarten.
At one point, they told us,
outside of kindergarten,
we must set an example.
What are we on?
Maybe we are still on trial—
we must set an example—
just in case ever.
Meanwhile, look at how it rains
I end up at a hotel—
I don't even unpack my suitcase.
I pick up your message—
you accuse me of something—
and I do not answer—
I do not answer—
I do not answer.
Since I remember
our promises to make progress
and to foster trust,
you should do the math—
and you do not answer—
you do not answer—
you do not answer.
It's worse than kindergarten—
but maybe there is nothing
that it is better than kindergarten.
We must set an example.
What are we on?
Maybe we are still on trial—
we must set an example—
just in case ever.
Meanwhile, look at how it rains
It is too tiring
and what I am thinking, I write to you—
and then I still find myself playing with you in the basement
and you just ask me
what is tiring?
And I do not answer.
We must set an example.
What are we on?
Maybe we are still on trial—
we must set an example—
just in case ever.