Hands (Studio Outtake)

If I could tell the world just one thing it would be
That we're all okay
And not to worry 'cause worry's wasteful
And useless in times like these

Our hands are small knives, weapons of conscience
If they're not idle with despair
And gather ourselves around our faith
For light does the darkness most fear

Our hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are our own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And we shall go on broken

Some things are subject to a higher law
You do not own us, you who never saw
You won't use my hands to fight your wars
To close your eyes, to cripple your doors

'Cause getting by isn't getting enough
And neither is welfare or thankless jobs
Because where there is a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing

Our hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are our own
And we shall go on broken

In the end, only kindness matters
In the end, only kindness matters
Oh-oh

Some things cannot be broken
Some things can't be undone
You cannot ever take away
What has already been won

Our hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are our own
And we shall go on broken
We shall go on broken