Cross the lot, wave a hand Dust off the loaded caravan In the settled haze of morningfall Mark the way, hark the call

The tone is dry, the note is clear The road is wide, the passage free The carnival is empty

Lift a finger, lift a chin Lift the corner of an eye Floating falling into sight Adrift, the paper butterfly

Without aim, painted wings Gather gust and flutter free The carnival is empty

Waking has no worry then Dreams have no sleep A cage's edge has no name Words have no speech

The thought is gone, the face serene The brow is clear, the mind is free The carnival is empty

The carnival is empty