SftI-B1

selliepeterson

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

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