Оригинален текст
Distance decreases as if time is a dying cockroach.
Plagues enclose.
Sitting upon this wooden bench, I am helpless to billions of bullets.
In this moment I am helpless.
Why is it so difficult to see ourselves?
No poem I've wrote, Nor song I have sung, can halt the army of wrath.
Numbers Numbers Numbers Numbers.
In this moment I am helpless.
Serpents will transform into mice only to drown in the deepest red.
I've always expresses my thoughts in colors, but we remain blind.
Numbers Numbers Numbers Numbers