"Hands" by: Eric L.
Your hands were soft
Yet it held me aloft
In the azure sky
It was perfect. I fly,
Towards my dreams
Which were torn at the seams
By the hands of fate;
Those hands that I hate.
Your love I cannot
Deny; curse me not.
The serpent it entwines
Like the deadliest vines
But your hands they caress
And allow me to rest
In your cradle of love
I am held up above.
Your hands were soft
Yet it held me aloft
In the azure sky
It was perfect. I fly,
Towards my dreams
Which were torn at the seams
By the hands of fate;
Those hands that I hate.
Your love I cannot
Deny; curse me not.
The serpent it entwines
Like the deadliest vines
But your hands they caress
And allow me to rest
In your cradle of love
I am held up above.
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