A Hand To Take Hold Of The Scene

I'm the band in a show bout a man holding hands with his wife

On a therapist couch with his face to the crowd after fucking around countless nights

And there's this one episode, close-up cameras were showing him crying

His red head and his red eyes

I'm the band in a show bout a boy being buried alive

From his head to his toes by a criminal but with a sensitive soul with a set of raccoon eyes

And there's this scene in the show when a hustler knows he's gonna die

The ground opens and he climbs inside

And as he speaks his last line, a thought falls from his mind and I pick it up and write it through the tv

Oh, oh

Is there a hand to take hold of the scene?

I'm a man in a dream and they're dancing in front of my eyes

Is the queen informed of the flaws with the eyes all got odd and ruppled into her spine

She rises up like a yawn, grips my heart like a claw, splits apart like a jaw, like an eye

And she asks me with a sigh

We were so far from right

We were losing the fight

We were letting the light weaken it's beam

Oh, oh

Is there a hand to take hold of the scene?

I wanted to smile like a glistening shot of a kiss that's as sharp as a knife

The day expires

In the dry, cracked, trembling lips God saw fit to put his kiss inside

I lift them up to you, I'd like to bear witness to our life that is fine and is filling the cryingest eyes

Gracing each face that is making the waste that is broken as one's fairly fly

Love that is innocent, of that old covetest, cancerous vibe

And a beauty that annihilates all life

Like it's lived in these nights, holding your hatred tight

Like a sign that you're right and you're strong

When all the doors are shut tight, I will dream you tonight

And my dream will just sweep you along

When all the fires are fanned, we're shucking our plans

And we're too weak to stand on our two feet

Oh, oh

Is there a hand to take hold of this scene?