Psalms -

Is our future gray as the slabs on our drives

Are fortune and fate hidden between our thin lines

Been pining a place on this earth

Behind the tasteless old netted blinds

The hand me down «lack of work»

Feeling enslaved to some dotted line

We’re tongue tied

Tangled enraged, the sign of the times

And our palms

Just read like a page from a novel gone wrong

Are they spinning a yarn?

The lines on our palms

Please tell me they’re wrong

They’ll only cause harm

The lines on our palms

They’re spinning a yarn

And twisting my arm

The lines on our palms

Palms

We’re tongue tangled and

Enraged, dotted lines

The signs of the times

They read like a page from a novel gone wrong

They’re spinning a yarn

And twisting my arm

The lines on our palms

Please tell me they’re wrong

They’ll only cause harm

The lines on our palms

They’re spinning a yarn

And twisting my arm

The lines on our palms

If only we’d known

That nothing is set in stone

There’s no need to pay for some charm

They’re nothing but psalms, the lines on our palms

If our future’s gray as the slabs on our drives

By now you’d say

We shouldn’t read the lines on our palms