This is not a band
You are not a fan
No one can tell a man
How to use his hands

Dig this little song
Dust it off, put it on
No one can tell you how
To return to a burning town
Why does it feel so wrong
If everyone was already gone?

Now that I'm old
Where do my hands go?
I have been told
If you're not careful
You'll never find a way home
You're gonna spin out of control

Here, hear the way the players change
Near where I reach the end of my range
When I sing I think of my limitations
In my dreams I've still got that hesitation
But maybe I was wrong
Maybe this is just a song
In the same coin, when you feel it you can really love
But that's the main point - can you feel it, can you really love?
My head is stuck in sand
Here is no ocean, there is no band
I am stranded

Now that I'm old
Where do my hands go?
I have been told
If you're not careful
You'll never find a way home
You're gonna spin out of control
I remember hovering
Stop tap dancing and start shovelling
I remember floating
Stop pining and start loathing
So hold me just a little bit longer
No that sinking feeling is getting stronger