All the Years' Round

At first I saw them

In the bright morning light

A milestone on their shoulders

A horse at their side

A horse they came over

From the land of constant fight

At the corner they were waiting

For a winner of their size

Nut the managers were taking over

The profession of disguise

And they went into a rainbow

And they lived there for many years

Till one day they tried to go

But burning was their gear

Are you waiting for the take-off

Are you waiting for the show

No winner will be coming

You really should know

Neo-Nazi doom advisors sticking in the mud

While Hindustanian horses refuse a haircut

Windswept children running wild on the land

Lonely tele-typers ticking in Tschaikowsky's tent

Pig-pink-coloured ministers are ready to drop

They cut down all the flowers on the way to the top

While frogmen encircle the Zig-Zag Cinema

And salvation's sisters enter the Turkish Opera

Pudding-face publicity promoters call

For a sign on the invisible wall

While prophets drive past on compressed air

And caravans of cameras do not care

The boomerang battery bands-man on his sphinx-like bike

Is mostly from Saturday to Sunday on strike

While formulas go to pieces close at the ground

On their way down the hill all the years' round

Later I saw them

In a rusty limousine

A guitar on their shoulder

To leave the golden mean

Where the cleric is a clown

And the colours are clean

At the corner they were waiting

For a splendid slot machine

Which could change wine into water

And reality into a dream