Woorden: Heathers. Moose.

I have nothing more to say to you,

Open your eyes,

Open your mind,

And maybe then I'll consider conversing again

Open your eyes,

Open your mind.

There's nothing I can give to you,

You'll take it as it is, and turn it into a tragedy.

There's no point trying to talk to me, words of glass will only cut my skin,

And there's no room for scars here. Words of glass will only cut my skin.

Pick up a thorn and frame it, so one day you will realise, your speech is a privilege.

Loose it one day, and you will regret it.

Can you hear them scream?