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• Artiste: Gazillion
• Titre: Eleven Outstretched Hands
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I flew in to this city from the West I took eleven outstretched hands and shook them briefly In an effort to chase tension from our chests I said, "Sir, you're the man with whom I'll be competing" Then I turned and wiped my hand across my head to ease the feeling Those twenty-two eyes stared awkwardly by and their sockets are silencers For my secret is that they'd spill out of the back of my head but I wasn't revealing Because I realized, after five hundred tries, the mystery is one thing that works So instead of staring at the stars I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead Don't kill me if I pronounce my 'r's Lord, I was raised in the midwest And it's a last resort after losing again I turn my eyes to the lord and ask him if I'll ever win And it's a last resort after a swing and a miss I turn my eyes to the lord, but does he care about this? I stepped off of the stage on to the floor And the rhythm and my heart had both stopped beating Not a single sallow soul had asked for more So I put away my weapon and started weeping Well I wept because I'd been shamed, I'd been betrayed and I was bleeding Confused and rejected I fell to the dirt and I swore as I got to my feet I opened my eyes, intending to cry out, "You bastards, I know you've been cheating!" It hit me so hard in my mind for the five hundreth time -- God damn, I have been beat. So instead of staring at the stars I try to take in everything And yes, I still pronounce my 'r's Especially when I sing And it's a last resort after losing again I turn my eyes to the lord and ask him if I'll ever win And it's a last resort after a swing and a miss I turn my eyes to the lord, but does he even exist? And just before I give up and put my weapon in my belt I find a record of resilience when I look inside myself And as the sun began to set I took eleven outstretched hands and shook them sweetly And with no bitterness or shame passing my lips I said, "You're not the first, but you'll be the last to beat me"