I feel like I'm coming down with it
|
All of the symptoms fit
|
And I backslide
|
An eye on the clock
|
I don't talk much
|
When I'm running
|
On the inside
|
When every conclusion reached
|
Is out to you
|
I put on my best face and my kid gloves, too
|
And held up the end
|
Until it's out of my hands
|
Out of my hands
|
|
And if you tuned in to see blood
|
It's not a subject that I surpass in
|
My mission's been scrubbed; my brains were washed
|
Because I never was your assassin
|
|
It's like a desert
|
Sand will have to do
|
And between my fingers
|
Saw it running through
|
Until it turned into this
|
And out of my hands
|
Out of my hands
|
Out of my hands
|
|
So come up and check
|
There's nothing up my sleeve
|
All the while
|
It's getting harder for you to believe
|
|
Out of my hands
|
Out of my hands
|
Out of my hands
|
|
-----------------
|
Out of My Hands
|
| Michael Penn |
