Оригинален текст
It's tricky when
You feel someone
Has done something
On your behalf
It's slippery when
Your sense of justice
Murmurs underneath
And is asking you:
How am I going to make it right?
With a palm full of stars
I throw them like dice
Repeatedly
I shake them like dice
And throw them on the table
Repeatedly
Repeatedly
Until the desired constellation appears
And I ask myself:
How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?
And you hear
How am I going to make it right?