When he broke the handcuffs, all the families with bad blood clapped their hands.
A natural reaction to a man they understand—they clapped their hands
The curtains drew. The lights went out. He grabbed a bag of ice and thought of her.
He put aside the stinging where the handcuffs cut his hide and thought of her.
Oh, our hands are tied He bought a ring last summer, took a double jointed knee, and she said "No."
She asked him if he'd leave his locks and chains and hidden keys and he said "No."
His stunts grew more outrageous. Every time he took the stage, he scanned the crowd.
She'd watch from the back behind a gypsy-made disguise with her head down.
Oh, our hands are tied Late one night in Austin, after failing one last time to find her face,
He fakes a smile and mutters, "Thanks for coming. This will be my last escape."
He walks into the water like a heretic who's ready for the flame,
And in the back she knows that he has chosen Barton Springs to be his grave.
Oh, our hands are tied She throws her wig aside and shouts "He's gonna die if you don't let me through."
They split and watch her stumble, scared to help her, as his fingertips turn blue.
She flops into the water where she guesses he would be and pats the ground.
When she comes up with him, all the people in the crowd are sure he's drowned.
Oh, our hands are tied She breathes into his lungs and says a prayer and starts to cry and pumps his heart.
He can't keep his water-laden body from resisting such a spark.
When his eyes jump open, they go crossed upon her face a breath away.
He kisses her and vomits and he shouts "I have another thing to say!"
If you know how love's the noose that you should never loose, then clap your hands.
If you know how love's the lock that undoes all your knots, then clap your hands.
Oh, our hands are tied