Without a wish, without a will, I stood upon that silent hill And stared into the sky until My eyes were blind with stars and still I stared into the sky.

I saw with open eyes, Singing birds sweet, Sold in the shops, For the people to eat, Sold in the shops of, Stupidity Street.

The handwriting on the wall may be a forgery.

Some things have to be believed to be seen.

Time, you old gipsy man, Will you not stay, Put up your caravan Just for one day?

Without a wish, without a will, I stood upon that silent hill And stared into the sky until My eyes were blind with stars and still I stared into the sky.

Did anyone ever have a boring dream?