Hands Are Wood Lyrics

Come see the woodpile

Behind the cannery

Come through the wall

Of the gunnery

To where the wood was chopped

And the difficult wood was lopped

Hands are wood

Oh, hands are wood, now

Hands are wood

Hands are wood, yeah

There's a history of commotion

In this village

Bonfires spitting their surprise

While they pillage

A hundred feet or more the shavings swept

The air was disturbed as children slept

The men are doing what they were told

The men are doing what they were told

What's the music hands make?

What's that yellow crackle?

What's that thrashing?

Hands are wood

Oh, hands are wood, now

Hands are wood

Hands are wood, yeah

In the morning the heavy trucks rolled in

On a dust storm

The men in dusters cut lengths of twine

Like ringworms

The ghostly planks were ballast on barges

Most of this wood is bound for Saint Arbus

Not that I care

Hands are wood

Oh, hands are wood, now

Hands are wood

Hands are wood, yeah

Is this packing for a transatlantic box?

Is this paper for essays on schadenfreude?

Is this timber for dollhouse dressers?

Is this a twenty baht note

For the Thai rubber trade?

Not that I care

Hands are wood

Oh, hands are wood, now

Hands are wood

Hands are wood, yeah

These matchsticks burn

However you strike them

And these cords of wood

Make a sound however you light them

This wood, however you hack it, is deadwood

This memory, however you fear it, is a redwood

The men are doing what they were told

The men are doing what they were told, yeah

These matchsticks burn

However you strike them

And these cords of wood

Make a sound however you light them

This wood, however you hack it, is deadwood

This memory, however you fear it, is a redwood

The men are doing what they were told

The men are doing what they were told

Not that I care

Oh, oh

Oh, oh

Oh, oh

Not that I care