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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.
