| Oh no, where are my hands
|
| They’re in my pockets
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| Away from your hands
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| And that is where they will stay
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| Because you are far away
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| You said you had something to say
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| But while you were talking, my feet started walking away
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| Before I knew where I was
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| I was up short of the motorway
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| And I kept on walking
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| And the rain was beating down on my head
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| And I kept on walking
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| And all the while I let you call my name
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| But I kept doing just the same
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| Til I feel like trying to complain
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| But I don’t think they will listen
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| Keep going, keep going and there ain’t no way of knowing
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| When to stop, when to stop, it’s tearing me apart
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| Cause I would like to be polite
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| Sit and hold you for the night
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| Like my parents would stick around
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| My manners start from the ankles down
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| Oh no, where are my hands
|
| They’re in my pockets
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| Away from your hands
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| I’m far away from your plans
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| Far, far away from your plans
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| I keep going, keep going and there ain’t no way of knowing
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| When I’ll stop, when I’ll stop and it’s happening a lot
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| And you told me that I was your man
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| I try to speak, instead I follow my feet
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| I ran, I ran |