| A system in the making
|
| Self-healing for the blind
|
| Sitting in the waiting-room
|
| Of the patient mind;
|
| Raging at the illness
|
| When the rage may be its cause
|
| The purpose of the will is lost
|
| In the search for an escape clause
|
| In the search for an escape clause
|
| Fatal convalescence
|
| The wound becomes a weal;
|
| The poison is in essence just
|
| The virus of the real
|
| But there’s sympathetic healing
|
| The power of the soul bandages
|
| Concealing all that we can’t control
|
| All that we can’t control
|
| Waiting for the doctor to come
|
| Waiting for the doctor to come
|
| Waiting for the doctor to come
|
| Waiting for the doctor to come
|
| A system in the making
|
| Self-healing for the blind
|
| Sitting in the waiting-room
|
| Of the patient mind…
|
| But there isn’t any answer
|
| The consciousness can quote
|
| When the loaded dice of chance are there
|
| Rattling in the throat
|
| Rattling in the throat
|
| Waiting for the doctor to come
|
| Waiting for the doctor to come
|
| Waiting for the doctor to come
|
| Waiting for the doctor to come
|
| You put your faith in others;
|
| The fear could not be worse
|
| But Nature’s not your mother now
|
| Just your suckling nurse
|
| There isn’t any doctor
|
| There isn’t any cure…
|
| That might come as a shock to you
|
| But can you really be so sure?
|
| Can you really be so sure?
|
| Can you really be sure? |