i'm changing, i hold my head to keep from shaking

my hands are full, but i'm not

i'm changing, i hold myself to keep from shaking

these hands are done, but i'm not

and i'm not full, but i'm not done either - just trying to hear what i need to see

and if i see it i promise i'll let you hear it - and if you'll listen then i'm all ears

these hands weren't made for us - but they'll grab at every will we conjure up

my hands weren't built for me - but they still burn the ground enough

acting like they want to be found, just to go and hide again

these hands are all to blame, tearing where it needs to mend

each finger bent in shame, knuckles every shade of white

our hands are all the same, over our face to cover our eyes

my passports all worn out, if you need these hands they're all for you

i don't know what i want, but i know what i don't want to do