When the right hand has no idea what the left hand is doing.
© J. Patrick Sharpe
Lyrics and Music by J. Patrick Sharpe
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The shrine that I built in my head is missing some stones
We dropped to the floor to make love by the dusty old bones
Sometimes it seems better to be lost than it is to be found
It’s the sound of the top on the bottle of wine we’re unscrewing
When the right hand has no idea what the left hand is doing
I can’t be upset by the questions of the space down below
To reflect on dimensions existing that we’ll never know
Just watching the water in the bathtub go right down the drain
It’s the painful neglect of the emotional debt we’re accruing
When the right hand has no idea what the left hand is doing
It was loud on the stage overlooking all the people who were listening
The spotlight was pure it lit up every clue I was missing
I wondered if the scar on your heart was hurting or healing
It’s the feeling you’re not sure if the crowd is cheering or booing
When the right hand has no idea what the left hand is doing
(Br) In a silent rebellion
Trouble ensues
When you’re blind to the selling
It’s unwise to refuse
Better unsaid
Better unknown
Then you wake up one day to find you’ve been dreaming alone
It was dawn when we spotted the shore from the ocean of doubt
And the sight of the land made us wonder what it all was about
And I looked in the mirror and I told myself I would be fine
It’s the line in the sand that’s been drawn by the words we’ve been spewing
When the right hand has no idea what the left hand is doing
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