Those Hands

C Em C C Swift and sharp, a light in the dark Em Em formed singularly was I to be C C Of wood and steel, to heft, to heel Em Em and through the fire was their desire Dm Dm C C Those hands, the hands that made me what I am Dm Dm G G And I am an instrument to them C C Oh, and I pristine and glistening Em Em am given forth and carried north C C where rivals stand, awaiting commands Em Em and cold am I, held tightly by Dm Dm C C Those hands. The hands that made me what I am Dm Dm G G And I am an instrument to them Em Em Dm Dm Oh, drums shake the ground and cries resound off hill and helm Em Em Dm Dm And so did I let forth a cry when overwhelmed Em Em Dm Dm With kin and clone, of steel and stone and oak and elm, Em Em G G Were set to task and I to ask, "Is this my realm?" C C Swift and sharp, a light in the dark, Em Em formed singularly. Was I to be C C this tool of pain? Or do I contain Em Em the capacity for beauty by Dm Dm C C those hands? The hands that make me what I am Dm Dm G G C and I am an instrument to them