We all look the same in the dark,

We all sound the same in the silence,

We all feel the same in the cold.

Will I wait for the light of your face?

Will I yearn for the sound of your voice?

Will I want for the warmth of your touch?

Or will my eyes fall upon the obscene?

Will my voice issue forth as abrasive?

Will my hands feel what ought not to be felt,

Or strike out in terror and anger,

Or clutch a knife in madness and dread?

I do not think I want to sense.

So I shall see no evil,

Hear no evil,

Speak no evil,

Feel no evil,

And die, remaining desolate.