Palm Reader

Walk around with fingers clenched Lines where my nails dig in I don't need a mystic to count my misfortunes You don't want to read my mind You won't like what you find There's no need to look between the lines You couldn't count my failures on twenty hands How many ways can I say "Eighteen held better days" But they were long ago, and they are far away Correcting course again I guess that in a sense I've lost my innocence Finding new ways of getting lost again You don't want to read my mind You won't like what you find