It was the end of the day,
The healer, had done his healing,
He sat on his chair in the darkness,
Who is going to heal his tears?

He thought of this and he thought of that,
But always the tears returned,
Always the tears returned,
What were they saying?

The tears were always saying things,
Things that made sense and things that made no sense,
Things that brought more tears
And things that brought no tears.

Some tears were sad,
Some tears were glad,
It did not really matter, tears were tears,
Always the tears.

Funny, thought the healer,
He healed the tears of others,
They came to him with their tears,
And asked him to make them go away, and he did.

Who will make the clown laugh?
Who will make the lion proud?
Who will make the snake cunning?
Who will heal the healer's tears?