The papers write about the situation Every day the same game to play My rule has been conceived before The sheep are here, to run. The time hitch-hikers join their memories Sound from all other times They saw the rise, they see the fall But after all, here you are. Our pleasure‘s no more smoking That slowly Tears out a cheminee Down the roof. And all the crowd would not forget I can‘t believe we left this time It‘s all so easy and all so fine You touch my legs but not my heart. So now we‘re back in what‘s The papers word The TV set is always on We know you‘re kind We know you‘re a wrong You close your mind...and you go on. I hear this tune from renaissance The crowded marquet eloquence A plane that roars the silent stage.