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.
