can i shriek out every gaze
in the packed room
counting out the heads
want for leave
is his hand upon her waist
know where mine are
i've done worse several times
saint can't speak
hands just want to house him
thrust some colors in his face
now payback becomes a fashion
break every object in the place
so these stories are my friends
and they hold me
and if close my hand
fist won't leave
now he can feel like i felt now he can feel like mine
now he can deal what i dealt no he can deal with mine
hands fits into side
hands fits into eye
it's so good...
... the feel is so good
... the fit is so good
i'll be generous with...