From One To Six Hundred Kilometers کے بول

The most tender thing you've said to me Is that I suffer from paranoia Sometimes when I wish to kill I count from one to six hundred kilometers Yet, I fail to feel I sail to sea I fail to behave rationally And I fail to grip I fail to keep I fail to think about me "If I were able to hate Perhaps hatred would bring me relief I ought to have a steel brow And a heart of stone" Yet, you failed to feel You sailed to sea You failed to embrace my insecurities And I failed to grip I failed to keep I failed to think about me