These arms of mine don't have that muscle And they don't pump no iron But they can hold you when you're hurting baby These arms of mine These arms were made to hold a woman When she gets lonely in the night And I keep them wide open baby These arms of mine This old heart is sentimental I guess I wear it on my sleeve But it feels your pain baby When dreams are scattered like falling leaves This heart was made to love a woman Though it may be broken time to time It beats in rhythm with your loving baby This heart of mine If these hands could paint a picture If they only knew where to start I'd paint a portrait of my love for you baby Straight from the heart These hands were made to touch a woman And wipe the teardrops from her eyes And they're reaching out for your love baby These hands of mine These arms This old heart These hands.