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lyrics & poems
The rat is trembling backstage
Under the curtain he is crawling
With funny steps he’s going on the boards
Hiding a little in the dark
And with a heavy heart, the rat
Is feeling like a rat this evening
He feels it might be the last time
He’s going on the stage
He thinks of other rats
He thinks of his arrival as a rat
And then he thinks of art
Especially of art
Of art that made him living
Of art that gave him joy
Of art that brought believing
That late one ought to trust
The king has not departed
That late one ought to trust
In art he is not believing
That late one ought to trust that art is
mis à mort