Grips

My fingers don't stretch out
Don't catch grip, don't keep count
Don't point out your broken shoelace
The drink on your lip, the frown on your face
So tied up with wishing
They fail to frequent your lonely skin
Manual definition
Of all the lines I'm not crossing

You keep hold, holding out hope for my hand
Like you're the puppet on our empty stage
You keep holding out hope for my hand
To tug your broken heart back into shape

Take back my solitude
The times when I don't think of you
But is it ever good enough to say
Another time, some other way
Too much grip cuts circulation
And I'm numb from your needing

You keep hold, keep holding out hope for my hand
Like you're the puppet on our empty stage
You keep holding out hope for my hand
To tug your broken heart back into shape

There'll be another frame for your picture
There'll be another saint for your scripture

You keep holding out hope for my hand
Like you're the puppet on our empty stage
You keep holding out hope for my hand
Like you're the puppet on our empty stage
You keep holding out hope for my hand
To tug your broken heart back into shape