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