Crooked hands

She's been broken, buit again many times it's like a friend
Conversation in her head, battle scars on a broken bed
He's to early or too late, he's learned to sit, learned to wait
Stealing words that never land, tricked again by his crooked hands

You curve with a world you never asked for
And you take what you can before it's gone
You learn to live with what you've wasted
And you lose yourself, you're left alone

So we've got to live like we're running away
Until the days fall down, the days fall down and fade away..