If they'd give me my clothes back then I could go home
From this fresh, this clean, antiseptic air
Behind the locked gates an old donkey moans

Around the duck pond we grimly moep
Gloomily and mournfully we go rounds again
And one more doomed time and without much hope
Going round and around to nowhere
From the balcony we watched the carnival band
The crack of the drum a little child did scare
I can still feel his tiny fingers pressed in my hand