Help, my son, break these words Like bread onto the field And when January all so warm With this confusion builds And I brought those nights When it all came down to the fight We could all read everything And free them from your hate Well, how can this be, they dance And we, we are, we are the same? When it all came down to the fight We could all read everything You could be, you could be anything We could all read everything You could be, you could be anything More from The Shaky Hands