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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
This, this is not a band You, you are not a fan No one can tell a man How to use his hands Take, take this little song (Dust it off, put it on) No one can tell you how (To return to a burning town) Why does it feel so wrong If everyone was already gone? Now that I'm old, Where do my hands go? I have been told If you're not careful You'll never find a way home You're gonna spin out of control Hear, hear the way the players change (Hear when I reach the end of my range) When I sing, I think of my limitations (In my dreams I still have the hesitation) Maybe I was wrong Maybe it's just a song And the same coin When you feel it you can really love It's the main point Can you feel it can you really love? My head is stuck in sand There is no ocean, there is no band I am stranded Now that I'm old, Where do my hands go? I have been told If you're not careful You'll never find a way home You're gonna spin out of control I remember hovering Stop tap-dancing and start shoveling I remember floating I'll stop climbing, and start rolling So, hold me just a little bit longer No, that sinking feeling is getting stronger |