Chords for Hands
Tempo:
35.95 bpm
Chords used:
G
C
Em
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[G]
I spent an hour watching the way people hold hands, [C] the way palms meet palms, [G] the intricacy
of fingers laced around other fingers like a fine stitching of some foreign fabric.
I spent an hour watching [C] hands.
The first was a [G] young couple.
I watched the way his hand waded in the air, hers complacent to her side.
I watched as he grabbed hers, locked it around his fingers like an [C] overprotective father
holds on to the innocence in his daughter.
[G] And just like the overbearing of a father and the rebellion of a child, she was resistant.
Held his only for a moment, [G] then she would let go.
She did this at least several times.
I would watch them.
I would laugh in my mind, but soon it was not so funny.
The way her fingers would drop his after [C] holding them so quickly, never tightly, never
did she [G] hold his back.
I could just imagine how much she was holding back.
He never got to him though.
He just kept finding her fingers, [C] locking them in his grip.
It let me know [G] that he was in love alone.
This woman and man let me know that their entire relationship could [C] be summed up in
the way she kept letting go of his [G] hands.
Soon, there were another set of fingers and thumbs.
Mid-twenties.
I could tell by [C] the entanglement of nubs that they were still new and [G] in love.
Hands dangling in the air, swaying backwards and forwards like swings.
Like not a care.
Something [C] about the swaying, the way they held each other's hands, let me [G] know that
it wasn't so serious, but it was getting there.
I watched them.
I could tell by the lightness in the [C] grasp that if she wanted to go there, he [G] was just
as ready as her hands.
Third couple.
I could see the possession in his middle [C] finger.
I could see the same [G] hands he used to hold hers with presently, maybe had been across
her face before.
The same fingers that were tied into a knot around hers had [C] simultaneously been around her neck.
I could see the excuses [G] she made for him in the way she bit her fingernails.
It let me know that she grew her patience in other places.
I never looked [C] at her face, but I could see the [G] rock in her palm.
I could see the ownership in his fist because he never, never held her hand.
He carried her [C] wrist.
[G] Third couple wasn't a couple at all.
It was one set of hands.
Her companion was her cell phone.
She was not connected [C] to another human at this present moment.
She was [G] busy.
Sharing her attachment to an iPhone.
Texting with fingers probably wishing they were touching another human's collarbone.
[C] There was a young man.
A stranger.
Homeless.
A drifter.
Fingernails filled with all the dirty things people in subways forget on their [C] seats.
Palms crammed with excuses [G] for spare change fingers along as the highways I'm sure he's walked on.
He tells her that he's heading to Alabama.
[C] He doesn't ask for change.
[G] She is surprised.
He extends his hand.
She is as hesitant with her life jacket as a Christian is to a Jehovah's Witness.
[C] Finally, she latches on.
[G] Her grasp is faint.
Her grip is weak.
Wipes her hand on her black buck sack [C] after he leaves.
[G] Stains won't show there.
The fourth set of hands were my favorite.
[C] They were different from the rest.
[G] Hands were creased like the ones in his pants and were filled with lines like maps.
I'm thinking, I'm thinking to [C] show where they've been.
He would [G] occasionally lift hers to his mouth to taste the sweetness of their time together.
They walked slow.
Their hands did not fidget.
[C] Never uncomfortable with the little space or the [G] silence that was between them.
Held each other with such a closeness I could not tell where their hands would begin and end.
No need to swing them while they [C] walked.
They were comfortable with the [G] certainty of the journey.
They were in this together.
Not letting you slip through my hands, wrapped around each other's triggers,
old in [C] age, twisted in skin and palm [G] and fingers.
There was something about the way their hands were as certain as their steps [Em] together.
Interwoven like fabric.
[C] Hands entwined like the material in [G] swells.
I watched them the longest.
Thought that, thought that I could learn the way to hold on from them.
Thought that, that maybe the secret to longevity was hidden in the maps in their hands.
And [C] that maybe, just [G] maybe,
I wouldn't be that girl that let go of that stranger's hand [C] so quickly.
[G]
If I take your hand in mine,
will you let go or hold on for sure?
I'm waiting for a star,
[C] telling you will you stop for me [G] or go?
[C] [G] [Em]
[G] [C] [Em]
I spent an hour watching the way people hold hands, [C] the way palms meet palms, [G] the intricacy
of fingers laced around other fingers like a fine stitching of some foreign fabric.
I spent an hour watching [C] hands.
The first was a [G] young couple.
I watched the way his hand waded in the air, hers complacent to her side.
I watched as he grabbed hers, locked it around his fingers like an [C] overprotective father
holds on to the innocence in his daughter.
[G] And just like the overbearing of a father and the rebellion of a child, she was resistant.
Held his only for a moment, [G] then she would let go.
She did this at least several times.
I would watch them.
I would laugh in my mind, but soon it was not so funny.
The way her fingers would drop his after [C] holding them so quickly, never tightly, never
did she [G] hold his back.
I could just imagine how much she was holding back.
He never got to him though.
He just kept finding her fingers, [C] locking them in his grip.
It let me know [G] that he was in love alone.
This woman and man let me know that their entire relationship could [C] be summed up in
the way she kept letting go of his [G] hands.
Soon, there were another set of fingers and thumbs.
Mid-twenties.
I could tell by [C] the entanglement of nubs that they were still new and [G] in love.
Hands dangling in the air, swaying backwards and forwards like swings.
Like not a care.
Something [C] about the swaying, the way they held each other's hands, let me [G] know that
it wasn't so serious, but it was getting there.
I watched them.
I could tell by the lightness in the [C] grasp that if she wanted to go there, he [G] was just
as ready as her hands.
Third couple.
I could see the possession in his middle [C] finger.
I could see the same [G] hands he used to hold hers with presently, maybe had been across
her face before.
The same fingers that were tied into a knot around hers had [C] simultaneously been around her neck.
I could see the excuses [G] she made for him in the way she bit her fingernails.
It let me know that she grew her patience in other places.
I never looked [C] at her face, but I could see the [G] rock in her palm.
I could see the ownership in his fist because he never, never held her hand.
He carried her [C] wrist.
[G] Third couple wasn't a couple at all.
It was one set of hands.
Her companion was her cell phone.
She was not connected [C] to another human at this present moment.
She was [G] busy.
Sharing her attachment to an iPhone.
Texting with fingers probably wishing they were touching another human's collarbone.
[C] There was a young man.
A stranger.
Homeless.
A drifter.
Fingernails filled with all the dirty things people in subways forget on their [C] seats.
Palms crammed with excuses [G] for spare change fingers along as the highways I'm sure he's walked on.
He tells her that he's heading to Alabama.
[C] He doesn't ask for change.
[G] She is surprised.
He extends his hand.
She is as hesitant with her life jacket as a Christian is to a Jehovah's Witness.
[C] Finally, she latches on.
[G] Her grasp is faint.
Her grip is weak.
Wipes her hand on her black buck sack [C] after he leaves.
[G] Stains won't show there.
The fourth set of hands were my favorite.
[C] They were different from the rest.
[G] Hands were creased like the ones in his pants and were filled with lines like maps.
I'm thinking, I'm thinking to [C] show where they've been.
He would [G] occasionally lift hers to his mouth to taste the sweetness of their time together.
They walked slow.
Their hands did not fidget.
[C] Never uncomfortable with the little space or the [G] silence that was between them.
Held each other with such a closeness I could not tell where their hands would begin and end.
No need to swing them while they [C] walked.
They were comfortable with the [G] certainty of the journey.
They were in this together.
Not letting you slip through my hands, wrapped around each other's triggers,
old in [C] age, twisted in skin and palm [G] and fingers.
There was something about the way their hands were as certain as their steps [Em] together.
Interwoven like fabric.
[C] Hands entwined like the material in [G] swells.
I watched them the longest.
Thought that, thought that I could learn the way to hold on from them.
Thought that, that maybe the secret to longevity was hidden in the maps in their hands.
And [C] that maybe, just [G] maybe,
I wouldn't be that girl that let go of that stranger's hand [C] so quickly.
[G]
If I take your hand in mine,
will you let go or hold on for sure?
I'm waiting for a star,
[C] telling you will you stop for me [G] or go?
[C] [G] [Em]
[G] [C] [Em]
Key:
G
C
Em
G
C
Em
G
C
_ _ _ _ _ _ [G] _ _
I spent an hour watching the way people hold hands, [C] the way palms meet palms, [G] the intricacy
of fingers laced around other fingers like a fine stitching of some foreign fabric.
I spent an hour watching [C] hands.
The first was a [G] young couple.
I watched the way his hand waded in the air, hers complacent to her side.
I watched as he grabbed hers, locked it around his fingers like an [C] overprotective father
holds on to the innocence in his daughter.
[G] And just like the overbearing of a father and the rebellion of a child, she was resistant.
Held his only for a moment, [G] then she would let go.
She did this at least several times.
I would watch them.
I would laugh in my mind, but soon it was not so funny.
The way her fingers would drop his after [C] holding them so quickly, never tightly, never
did she [G] hold his back.
I could just imagine how much she was holding back.
He never got to him though.
He just kept finding her fingers, [C] locking them in his grip.
It let me know [G] that he was in love alone.
This woman and man let me know that their entire relationship could [C] be summed up in
the way she kept letting go of his [G] hands.
Soon, there were another set of fingers and thumbs.
Mid-twenties.
I could tell by [C] the entanglement of nubs that they were still new and [G] in love.
Hands dangling in the air, swaying backwards and forwards like swings.
Like not a care.
Something [C] about the swaying, the way they held each other's hands, let me [G] know that
it wasn't so serious, but it was getting there.
I watched them.
I could tell by the lightness in the [C] grasp that if she wanted to go there, he [G] was just
as ready as her hands.
Third couple.
I could see the possession in his middle [C] finger.
I could see the same [G] hands he used to hold hers with presently, maybe had been across
her face before.
The same fingers that were tied into a knot around hers had [C] simultaneously been around her neck.
I could see the excuses [G] she made for him in the way she bit her fingernails.
It let me know that she grew her patience in other places.
I never looked [C] at her face, but I could see the [G] rock in her palm.
I could see the ownership in his fist because he never, never held her hand.
He carried her [C] wrist.
[G] Third couple wasn't a couple at all.
It was one set of hands.
Her companion was her cell phone.
She was not connected [C] to another human at this present moment.
She was [G] busy.
Sharing her attachment to an iPhone.
Texting with fingers probably wishing they were touching another human's collarbone.
[C] There was a young man.
A stranger.
Homeless.
A drifter.
Fingernails filled with all the dirty things people in subways forget on their [C] seats.
Palms crammed with excuses [G] for spare change fingers along as the highways I'm sure he's walked on.
He tells her that he's heading to Alabama.
[C] He doesn't ask for change.
[G] She is surprised.
He extends his hand.
She is as hesitant with her life jacket as a Christian is to a Jehovah's Witness.
[C] Finally, she latches on.
[G] Her grasp is faint.
Her grip is weak.
Wipes her hand on her black buck sack [C] after he leaves.
_ [G] Stains won't show there.
The fourth set of hands were my favorite.
[C] They were different from the rest.
[G] Hands were creased like the ones in his pants and were filled with lines like maps.
I'm thinking, I'm thinking to [C] show where they've been.
He would [G] occasionally lift hers to his mouth to taste the sweetness of their time together.
They walked slow.
Their hands did not fidget.
[C] Never uncomfortable with the little space or the [G] silence that was between them.
Held each other with such a closeness I could not tell where their hands would begin and end.
No need to swing them while they [C] walked.
They were comfortable with the [G] certainty of the journey.
They were in this together.
Not letting you slip through my hands, wrapped around each other's triggers,
old in [C] age, twisted in skin and palm [G] and fingers.
There was something about the way their hands were as certain as their steps [Em] together.
Interwoven like fabric.
[C] Hands entwined like the material in [G] swells.
I watched them the longest.
Thought that, thought that I could learn the way to hold on from them.
Thought that, that maybe the secret to longevity was hidden in the maps in their hands.
And [C] that maybe, just [G] maybe,
I wouldn't be that girl that let go of that stranger's hand [C] so quickly.
_ [G] _
If I take your hand in mine,
will you let go or hold on for sure?
I'm waiting for a star,
[C] telling you will you stop for me [G] or go? _
_ _ _ _ [C] _ _ [G] _ [Em] _
_ _ [G] _ _ [C] _ _ [Em] _ _
I spent an hour watching the way people hold hands, [C] the way palms meet palms, [G] the intricacy
of fingers laced around other fingers like a fine stitching of some foreign fabric.
I spent an hour watching [C] hands.
The first was a [G] young couple.
I watched the way his hand waded in the air, hers complacent to her side.
I watched as he grabbed hers, locked it around his fingers like an [C] overprotective father
holds on to the innocence in his daughter.
[G] And just like the overbearing of a father and the rebellion of a child, she was resistant.
Held his only for a moment, [G] then she would let go.
She did this at least several times.
I would watch them.
I would laugh in my mind, but soon it was not so funny.
The way her fingers would drop his after [C] holding them so quickly, never tightly, never
did she [G] hold his back.
I could just imagine how much she was holding back.
He never got to him though.
He just kept finding her fingers, [C] locking them in his grip.
It let me know [G] that he was in love alone.
This woman and man let me know that their entire relationship could [C] be summed up in
the way she kept letting go of his [G] hands.
Soon, there were another set of fingers and thumbs.
Mid-twenties.
I could tell by [C] the entanglement of nubs that they were still new and [G] in love.
Hands dangling in the air, swaying backwards and forwards like swings.
Like not a care.
Something [C] about the swaying, the way they held each other's hands, let me [G] know that
it wasn't so serious, but it was getting there.
I watched them.
I could tell by the lightness in the [C] grasp that if she wanted to go there, he [G] was just
as ready as her hands.
Third couple.
I could see the possession in his middle [C] finger.
I could see the same [G] hands he used to hold hers with presently, maybe had been across
her face before.
The same fingers that were tied into a knot around hers had [C] simultaneously been around her neck.
I could see the excuses [G] she made for him in the way she bit her fingernails.
It let me know that she grew her patience in other places.
I never looked [C] at her face, but I could see the [G] rock in her palm.
I could see the ownership in his fist because he never, never held her hand.
He carried her [C] wrist.
[G] Third couple wasn't a couple at all.
It was one set of hands.
Her companion was her cell phone.
She was not connected [C] to another human at this present moment.
She was [G] busy.
Sharing her attachment to an iPhone.
Texting with fingers probably wishing they were touching another human's collarbone.
[C] There was a young man.
A stranger.
Homeless.
A drifter.
Fingernails filled with all the dirty things people in subways forget on their [C] seats.
Palms crammed with excuses [G] for spare change fingers along as the highways I'm sure he's walked on.
He tells her that he's heading to Alabama.
[C] He doesn't ask for change.
[G] She is surprised.
He extends his hand.
She is as hesitant with her life jacket as a Christian is to a Jehovah's Witness.
[C] Finally, she latches on.
[G] Her grasp is faint.
Her grip is weak.
Wipes her hand on her black buck sack [C] after he leaves.
_ [G] Stains won't show there.
The fourth set of hands were my favorite.
[C] They were different from the rest.
[G] Hands were creased like the ones in his pants and were filled with lines like maps.
I'm thinking, I'm thinking to [C] show where they've been.
He would [G] occasionally lift hers to his mouth to taste the sweetness of their time together.
They walked slow.
Their hands did not fidget.
[C] Never uncomfortable with the little space or the [G] silence that was between them.
Held each other with such a closeness I could not tell where their hands would begin and end.
No need to swing them while they [C] walked.
They were comfortable with the [G] certainty of the journey.
They were in this together.
Not letting you slip through my hands, wrapped around each other's triggers,
old in [C] age, twisted in skin and palm [G] and fingers.
There was something about the way their hands were as certain as their steps [Em] together.
Interwoven like fabric.
[C] Hands entwined like the material in [G] swells.
I watched them the longest.
Thought that, thought that I could learn the way to hold on from them.
Thought that, that maybe the secret to longevity was hidden in the maps in their hands.
And [C] that maybe, just [G] maybe,
I wouldn't be that girl that let go of that stranger's hand [C] so quickly.
_ [G] _
If I take your hand in mine,
will you let go or hold on for sure?
I'm waiting for a star,
[C] telling you will you stop for me [G] or go? _
_ _ _ _ [C] _ _ [G] _ [Em] _
_ _ [G] _ _ [C] _ _ [Em] _ _