Invisible Hands - Diemonsterdie

I wake with marks around my throat

It’s the work of invisible hands

They carve «GET OUT!»

into my arms

So warn the invisible hands

There’s a red slap mark on the dead Pope’s ass

Feel the touch of invisible hands

When knives from the kitchen drawer

They’re flung by invisible hands

Invisible hands

Invisible hands

The cold, dead touch of unseen hands

Wet handprints spear my TV screen

I am watched by invisible hands

I tumbled down three flights of stairs

I was pushed by invisible hands

From a noose hung from an attic beam

I was hung by invisible hands

My corpse sways gently in the breeze

As though rocked by invisible hands

Invisible hands

Invisible hands

The cold, dead touch of unseen hands

Hands!

Invisible hands

The cold, dead touch of unseen hands