Hands

Man, I know it has to be good

Moving apart to the woods

Dance words endangered design

Hands moving hit the world twice

Hands, out in this majesty light

Plans, Over then into the light

His whole world she does intoxicate

His own hands lie farther in decays

We're meant to be unplayed (x3)

Bands, down the hall

Don't know they're small

I'm picking out the day

When I will be upstaged

I'm picking out the day

Picking out the day

Friends, large and small

Short and tall

Fall out to their final day (x4)

Fights, too hard to recall

Sing into the wall

Together complain (x3)

When, I get the room I will play

When, they laugh like it is the shame

Friends don't tend to use (x4)

Plans, which have already been made

Advance, towards the day after their day

They're making plans for you (x4)