Speak Love with Hands

Through the eyes the of skins I'm perfect to begin with

Distorted through my drumming I'm someone to contend with

A man with a purpose or someone to converse with

Somebody lucid that's feeling it regardless

I want the strings to love me and their pickups to agree

That nothing is above me without consent and privilege

And I want them just to aid me when I see a pretty maiden

Speak and not abhor me as I set to make her sing

My burden that I've crafted stows upon my shoulder

Slapping at my fingers as I try to grasp the point

A shout will make it chuckle a reach will cast it off

My spine it climbs to find its perch and roost upon my skull

But hands like these were made for better or for worse

To knead the flesh and feel caress from paper or the pulse

And when the fiendish devil-thing may fall and croak and cry

The fame I've yet to find may find me fortune blind.


Needing a direction to turn in light of lighter loads

I'll sway and stretch from Earthly pull to sky of night abodes

Until the grasp of just and lust may center me to center

Giving me a price to pay and a door I ought to enter.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I really didn't want this to be untitled, even though it probably should be.

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