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Something To Do With My Hands - Her Space Holiday



     
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Something To Do With My Hands Lyrics


You know it kills me to see such a pretty girl so tired
You've got your mother's cheekbones and your father's crooked smile
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in
Let your body sink into me, like your favorite memory
Like a line of poetry or a fuckin' fit of honestyI'll do my best to keep you, keep you sleepy as the south
With my old watch on your wrist and my thumbs inside your mouth
Suck on my fingertips until' you kill all my prints
So your boyfriend has no clue of how much I've been touching youMy problem with me is my problem with you
It doesn't take much for me to come unglued
I put my headphones on and hear your favorite songs
And it kills me to know that this won't be one of themYou know it saves me to think even for a little while
I owned the set of shoulders that you came to rely on
Like in that movie theater when you whispered in my ear
I almost didn't make it, this has been my hardest yearYour job is killing you, faster than a cancer could
So now you're giving up, like they always said you would
You've got that old map out now and you found the farthest town
You hope that if you're lucky this is where you'll settle downI don't care where you move, I don't care if it's far

All that I ask is that I know where you are
In case our timing is right, in case you need more from me
Than a bit of advice or a tongue full of sympathyYou know it kills me to see such a pretty girl so tired
You've got your mother's cheekbones and your father's crooked smile
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in
Let your body sink into me, like your favorite memory
Like a line of poetry or a fuckin' fit of honestyI'll do my best to keep you, keep you sleepy as the south
With my old watch on your wrist and my thumbs inside your mouth
Suck on my fingertips until' you kill all my prints
So your boyfriend has no clue of how much I've been fucking you

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Her Space Holiday is Marc Bianchi, a musician with roots in the California emo scene. During the early 90's, he was part of the highly influential emo band Indian Summer. Marc began recording under the moniker Her Space Holiday in 1996. It started as a simple affair: just a four track, a couple of cheap microphones, a beat up drum set, a guitar, and the desire to make music on his own. The band released the album Young Machines in 2003. His most recent album is 'XOXO, Panda & The New Kid Revival.'


Read more about Her Space Holiday on Last.fm.


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Her Space Holiday