The blind men cry
See the world in darkness
Nothing to find only listening
The rhythm of the knocking sticks
The vehicles can pass by
The drivers have to slow down
Let the blind men walk pass
The rhythm of the knocking sticks
They still have their touches
They still can play and learn music
Some can even write songs and sing
But the blind men still cry
The world in darkness
They try to imagine the world
With the words they read
Let the images form in their minds
The blind men cry
See the world in darkness
With the words they read
Let the images form in their minds
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