|
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 up short of the motorway |
|
And I kept on walking |
|
And the rain was beating down on my head |
|
And 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 |
|
Keep going, keep going and there ain't no way of knowing |
|
When to stop, when to 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, 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 |