Saturday Looks Good To Me

Whitey Hands

Saturday Looks Good To Me


Sing into your hands 'til everybody understands
Exactly how you feel
Springs of silver sound dripping from your fingers down
Dripping from your fingers now
Hang your armor out
Stretch your arms above the clouds
Let your love be loud
Let your body be a house
Let your cries drown out the crowds
I can hear your heavy shouts
I can hear you handing down anything you want
(You can hand them anything you want)
Any handsome oblivious song
(grinning like a jack-o-lantern
candy hands on Halloween
the halo hanging round your head was just the way it felt
you can make believe it or just keep it to yourself
show it to your mother or just throw it down a well
until it's sticking to your fingers
and the skin around your clitoris
the ever-present evidence for everybody else
dying with a million little invisible cells
show it to your lover or just throw it down the well)
Every wordless voice and what they want to sing to me
Never said a thing to me
The billboards made me ill
But I bought it still
Their nauseating symmetry
At the end of everything we was
Hold your hands up
And let that be our love.

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