Patient Songtext
von Peter Hammill

A system in the making, self-healing for the blind
Sitting in the waiting room of the patient mind
Raging at the illness, when the rage may be its cause
The purpose of the will is lost in the search for an escape clause
In the search for an escape clause

Fatal convalescence, the wound becomes a weal
The poison is in essence just the virus of the real
But there′s sympathetic healing, the power of the soul
Bandages concealing all that we can't control
All that we can′t control

Waiting for the doctor to come
Waiting for the doctor to come
Waiting for the doctor to come
Waiting for the doctor to come


A system in the making, self-healing for the blind
Sitting in the waiting room of the patient mind
But there isn't any answer the consciousness can call
When the loaded dice of chance are there
Rattling in the throat
Rattling in the throat

Waiting for the doctor to come
Waiting for the doctor to come
Waiting for the doctor to come

You've put your face in others, the fear could not be worse
But nature′s not your mother now, just your suckling nurse
And there isn′t any doctor, there isn't any cure
Oh, that might come as a shock to you, but can you really be so sure?
Can you really be so sure?

Can you really be so sure?
Can you really be sure?
Can you really be sure?
Can you really be sure?