Grips (from Scholars)

My fingers don't stretch out

Don't catch grip, don't keep count

Don't point out your broken shoelace

The drink on your lip, the frown on your face

So tied up with wishing

They fail to frequent your lonely skin

Manual definition

Of all the lines I'm not crossing

You keep hold, holding out hope for my hand

Like you're the puppet on our empty stage

You keep holding out hope for my hand

To tug your broken heart back into shape

Take back my solitude

The times when I don't think of you

But is it ever good enough to say

Another time, some other way

Too much grip cuts circulation

And I'm numb from your needing

You keep hold, keep holding out hope for my hand

Like you're the puppet on our empty stage

You keep holding out hope for my hand

To tug your broken heart back into shape

There'll be another frame for your picture

There'll be another saint for your scripture

You keep holding out hope for my hand

Like you're the puppet on our empty stage

You keep holding out hope for my hand

Like you're the puppet on our empty stage

You keep holding out hope for my hand

To tug your broken heart back into shape