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
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