يك زن بود.دورگه اي آلماني-آمريكايي.اندامي متوسط و كمي چاق.اصلا مثل زنهاي ايراني اسير ظاهرش نبود.يك انقلابي كه مرور زمان محافظه كارش كرده.من حوصله هيچ كس رو نداشتم .همش با خودم فكر مي كردم اون چه برتري نسبت به ما داره؟اين سوال كه از خودم مي كردم اشكم رو در مياورد.از همون اول كه ديدمش دوست داشتم سرش فرياد بكشم(هنوزم اين حس رو دارم!) تو كي هستي؟ من كي هستم؟تو چي داري؟من چي دارم؟
ولش كن!اون چه گناهي داره؟از دست اون كاري بر نمياد. و اصلا هم انتطار نداشته باش تو رو درك كنه!دوست دارم اين آهنگ رو براش بخونم،نه مي خوام فرياد بزنمش...
Hey you,
Out there in the cold,
Getting lonely, getting old,
Can you feel me?
Hey you,
Standing in the aisle,
With itchy feet and fading smile,
Can you feel me?
Hey you,
Don't help them to bury the light.
Don't give in, without a fight.
Hey you,
Out there on your own,
Sitting naked by the phone,
Would you touch me?
Hey you,
With your ear against the wall,
Waiting for someone to call out,
Would you touch me?
Hey you,
Would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I'm coming home.
But it was only, fantasy.
The wall was too high, as you can see.
No matter how he tried, he could not break free.
And the worms ate into his brain.
Hey you,
Out there on the road,
Always doing what you're told,
Can you help me?
Hey you,
Out there beyond the wall,
Breaking bottles in the hall,
Can you help me?
Hey you,
Don't tell me there's no hope at all.
Together we stand, divided we fall.