Hands

Oh no, where are my hands? They're in my pockets Away from your hands And that is where they will stay Because you are far away You said you had something to say But while you were talking, my feet started walking away Before I knew where I was I was on the hard shoulder of the motorway And I kept on walking And the rain was beating down on my head But I kept on walking And all the while I let you call my name But I kept doing just the same Til I feel like trying to complain But I don't think they will listen They keep going, they keep going and there ain't no way of knowing When they'll stop, when they'll stop, it's tearing me apart Cause I would like to be polite Sit and hold you for the night Like my parents would stick around My manners start from the ankles down Oh no, where are my hands? They're in my pockets Away from your hands I'm far away from your plans Far, far away from your plans I keep going, I keep going and there ain't no way of knowing When I'll stop, when I'll stop and it's happening a lot And you told me that I was your man I try to speak, instead I follow my feet I ran, I ran