Can i shriek out every gaze In the packed room Counting out the heads Want for leave Is his hand upon her waist Know where mine are I've done worse several times Saint can't speak Hands just want to house him Thrust some colors in his face Now payback becomes a fashion Break every object in the place So these stories are my friends And they hold me And if close my hand Fist won't leave Now he can feel like i felt now he can feel like mine Now he can deal what i dealt no he can deal with mine Hands fits into side Hands fits into eye It's so good... ... the feel is so good ... the fit is so good I'll be generous with...