Crooked Hands

She's been broken, buit again many times it's like a friend

Conversation in her head, battle scars on a broken bed

He's to early or too late, he's learned to sit, learned to wait

Stealing words that never land, tricked again by his crooked hands

You curve with a world you never asked for

And you take what you can before it's gone

You learn to live with what you've wasted

And you lose yourself, you're left alone

So we've got to live like we're running away

Until the days fall down, the days fall down and fade away..