Overseas Bowling Balls

Standing by the window on a summer night, the wind swept a lament in song accompanied by a sad guitar melody. I do not know the author, but the lyrics are stuck with me fire as if it had been dictated by my conscience. Also know the title, but say that is called Hands Without Sense ...


These two hands living in exile
These two hands crazy to forget
These two hands that cling to grief
To know that my sleeplessness can not bury

These hands stubborn I was yours They lie now
frost if you're not
They become hard and cold as two fists
And what I miss pluja because they know that you'll stay

Hands, cold hands
broken hands, hands Empty Hands
cracked by these verses that I write
Hands lifeless, dark hands dirty hands and
asaborías
Hands abandoned in the banishment of sintigo Hands
say goodbye looking meaningful reasons

These hands had found their homeland
Making of your skin second home
These hands that longed to walk in your clothes
And spill dropwise and body mapping

These hands do not know what These
hold hands and do not know comfort
These hands and do nothing but invoke you ,
That can not remember that they must forget

Hands stay, cold hands
Hands broken, cracked hands empty handed
these verses I write
Hands lifeless hands Hands
dark and dirty Hands
asaborías abandoned in the banishment of Hands
sintigo say goodbye looking for reasons to regard

These hands have fingers icebergs
These hands no longer feel any heat
These hands soiled with
ashes by a fire and battered do not know if stoke

These hands not hide because they have no
palms full of loneliness
These hands do not touch or calm and
These hands shake and I can not hear them or shut
Hands
stay, cold hands Hands
broken, empty hands cracked hands
these verses that I write
Hands lifeless hands dirty dark
Manos and Manos asaborías
abandoned in exile sintigo of Hands
say goodbye looking for reasons to regard

These palms do not touch bulerías
These hungry hands of your watch
These two hands full of caresses
delivered and not wilted only regret know These

withered hands of Van
bum begging if you're not resist
But unclean
of pain in that direction find another body to touch

stay Hands cold hands Hands
broken, cracked hands
empty-handed in these verses that I write without
Hands life, dark hands

asaborías hands dirty and abandoned in exile Hands of Hands
sintigo looking for reasons to say goodbye sense