Hand

There ain't much we need to say
Been running through all 50 states
All our stuff got packed away, too many times
Long hour drives, we won’t move again ourselves

Every bed without a frame
And, buying gas with only change
It’s been rough but we always say, no other 2
Could make it through, this crazy year we’ve had

But your hand, still fits in mine
And when it does, we’re fine

"Come on home" they always say
No stress or rent, and money gained
But we can’t give up that way, it isn’t time
To live and die, back where our roots have grown

Oh your hand, still fits in mind
And when it does, we’re fine

Oh, your hand, still fits in mind
And when it does, we’re fine