How is it,
That the game is played
Without it's limit
I'd rather play dead
He seems to know the rules
As if there are any
They know the secret to serenity
Them the fools
They both yearn
He earns
She learns
Up goes hope
Down goes the ground
"How cruel" says the head
It knows, how hard the fall must be
But like in war and poetry
Tout les coups sont permits.