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 it’s cause
Purpose of the will is lost
In the search for an escape clause,
In the search for an escape clause.
Sympathtic healing — the wound becomes a will(?)
The poison is in essence — just the virus of the real
But there’s sympathtic 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 conciousness can’t quote
Oh,not 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 dovtor to come
Waiting for the doctor to come
You put your faith in others
The fear could not be worce
Oh,but nature’s not your mother now,
Just your suckling nurse
And there isn’t any doctor,there isn’t any cure
Oh,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 so sure?
can you really be so sure?
can you really be sure?
can you really be sure?
(ad infinitum)