Текст песни The Problem of Other Minds (Michael McGuire) с переводом

I take you as the mode of your expression,

The way I take time as a venue of my being,

The way I write a song of these things,

And meaning is just the widow of a rhyme-scheme,

My thoughts they are gods yours seem like beekeepers,

Yet every time I speak it’s a rhetorical suicide.

You are standing in my light and that is how I know,

That you are just the grave of a shadow,

The Earth is a factory of seed just watch the gods grow,

The atomic-spin of your entangled going will never let you go,

If I am a standard audience you are just a dumb-show,

How could the war of my higher self leave me this low.

I ponder and I wonder at the shape of your ghost,

Does time eat your meals the way it feeds my hungers,

All I know is I’m loaded with your covert longings,

I am a self portrait worked by some abstract other,

Oh this is the system of me when the power grid groans,

I don’t know how to say you; how to field the dogma of you.

I haul the burdens of the river-ready thru this revealed reality,

Thru every trick of timing; thru every triviality,

You are the face and figure of my relentless mortality,

The little god-stop of nature’s vicious modality,

Great chunks of arctic-ice fall to this psychic-brutality,

I am the beast of you by the fault of commonality.

I can only talk to you (I don’t know what to say to you)

I can not look at you (I can only see thru you)

I live on a lost world.

Перевод песни The Problem of Other Minds