Hands

[Verse 1]
My hands are cold
They have no blood to hold
The room is dark
But I can hear her laugh
My eyes, they fear
What my ears think they hear
My head, it spins
And then my love begins
No fun, no games
Just this old ball and chain
She thinks I lack
The will to cut some slack

[Chorus]
Too young, too old
To tell what I've been told
My hands, they're cold
They'll need some blood to hold

[Verse 2]
My love is back
In the ground, in black
I stoop, she knows
Just not how deep it goes
White guilt inspects
A lack in intellect
I talk regrets
With the dying architect
Old man once said
Dying alone in bed
"The steeps of life
Are climbed best with a knife"

[Chorus]
Still young, still old
Can't tell what I've been told
Look, my hands, they're still cold
Soon they'll need some blood to hold

[Indistinct radio chatter]