In the waiting room
Of these closed eyes
A flower is attached
By a very, very long string
In the waiting room,
Of this breathless autumn
Each face is the cross
Of a shepherd with no flock
They pass through here; they want to forget
Their puppet condition;
One more artist in the Festival of Patience
In the waiting rooms
Of interviews and heart attacks
Of missing stations,
There is no one anywhere.
They pass through here, they want to forget
Their puppet condition;
One more artist in the Festival of Patience
They pass through here, they're going to be auctioned
Calmness, control, and sleepless nights.
They cannot leave, no one wants to enter
There is no coming back
In the waiting room
There's no chairs nor benches
Only urgent voices
No one is waiting seated
They pass through here, they're going to be auctioned
Calmness, control and sleepless nights;
Yet another artist in the Festival of Patience
They pass through here, they want to remember
How and why they were here
They cannot leave, no one wants to enter;
There's no return