These fingertips are to my soul,
They help me when I lose control,
I can't help it when you slip,
From my fingertips.
Gone away is the wind,
Blown on by with all your sin,
I try and try and to catch it,
In the grasp of my fingertips,
As I run I start to cry,
The birds they try and try to fly,
But all they do is fall and die,
And then again they start to slip,
They slip away...
From my fingertips..... </3
