Оригинален текст
Dear Mother, weve all got bad days, and I know youll understand. Where we open up a foreign door with a pair of foreign hands. Where we find ourselves alone at the foot of a pair of foreign stairs. Dear Mother, you know how our bad days can catch us unawares. Dear Mother, weve all got bad days, and I hope that youll agree. With a bottle filled up with Vicodin and a child who looks just like me. And a cellar thats as dark as winters cold (with a hole in the stone of the cold wall). A child like me whos hiding, a child who cant hear your call. Theres a string that runs through our bad days, and if you pull that string real tight, the days all crumple together and all that you see is night. And the doorkn*b becomes your enemy, and the window you see through a haze. Dear Mother, I wish you could stand inside and see all my bad days. My bad days all got together and they stood in a row for me, and I plunged deep into the row, and I couldnt hear and I couldnt see. And I came out after thousands rose and thousands passed away. Now I stand all alone at the foot of the stairs and I wait for more bad