I felt a thousand eyes on my hands and legs

I felt a hundred hearts in mine

If you wanted to see them

You'd have to get in line

I never wanted to be famous

I’m still convinced I stole this song

What makes you think that I'd be sorry for it

The best writers are the best thieves

I'm not the best writer, that’s not what I mean

I thought the way I felt was true and honest

I demonstrated all I could

But it would never be enough to satisfy

What the other part of me would

I felt a thousand fingers grab and pull me

Away from everything I was

The joke is that they all belonged to my hands

Every thread unraveled where I stand