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