The Coldest Hands

I see you watching

I see your old rusty hands

I see you drawing your lines through the things they do

The talk and the walk and the teeth and the spaces in between

Yeah, I know how to steal, because I learned from you

You are the rot, you are the underline

You're the fault beneath the plan

And all you've ever built is with the coldest hands

And I was the fix, I was the anchor

I was the card up your sleeve

But all I ever did was wait and say please

The moon and the sky and blood and the bones

And the rocks and the shadows on the walls

They're riddled with our faces, names,

and waste of our collective thoughts

When we were young we shaped the world

Like it was clay beneath our hands

And as far as we were concerned

It was ours to damn

And now we're older, not quite so bold

And we've got the coldest hands

And we mess things up

So do us all a favor

And come wreck our plans

Befor we smash you against the walls