SftI-B1

For hours and hours
He’s sitting on a chair
By the window looking out
He doesn’t see a thing
Staring holes in the Sunday – Holes in the clouds
He rarely moves – And he barely says a word
He says things like “They have ways”
By the way he talks – By the way he walks
You can tell where he spends his days
Holes
Whenever they allow
He’s lying on his bed
In the corner looking up
He doesn’t see a thing
Staring holes in the ceiling – Holes in his life
Da starrt einer
Löcher in den Sonntag,
Löcher in die Decke und
He rarely moves –And he barely says a word
sieht doch nichts. Er spricht
He says things like
fast nichts und bewegt sich kaum,
“They have ways to make you talk” aber man fühlt, dass es in seinem
By the way he talks – By the way he walks Inneren tobt. An der Art, wie er
You can tell where he spends his days
redet und sich bewegt, können
Eingeweihte ablesen, wo er sich
And in the nights
gerade aufhält – es sind die
Oh these never ending nights
typischen Nebenwirkungen
The return of the phrases
mancher Medikamente.
The return of the faces
The return of the voices
The return of all the choices
A million questions
A billion suggestions
From unknown places
From unseen spaces
From in here – Or out there – From somewhere