All day i think about it, then at night i say it..
Where did i come from, and what am i supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, i’m sure of that,
and i intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When i get back around to that place,
i’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
i’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when i fly off,
But who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If i could taste one sip of an answer,
i could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and i can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here.. will have to take me home..