When I put on my grandfather’s old shirt
Clean hands don’t feel comfortable
I have to press my fingers into the earth
I have to build things,
To brave slivers from raw edges,
To be bruised
I have to live deep; I have to feel full
When I put on my grandfather’s old shirt
Clean hands don’t feel comfortable
I have to press my fingers into the earth
I have to build things,
To brave slivers from raw edges,
To be bruised
I have to live deep; I have to feel full