Оригинален текст
You want to talk about things you won't understand?
Then give me your ears.
Put them in my hands.
Give me your hands.
Put them over my ears so I don't have to hear a thing I say
If it makes me think.
I can't talk about things
I don't understand so I leave it here
In empty hands and I leave off the ink
So I don't have to think or
Sink that low ever again.
Because my memory of what's good is leaving me.
I knew it would.
That part of me makes no sense.
That part of me is my conscience.