The hands that were gently
Rocking your cradle
And turning the pages
Of the nursery fable
The ones that used to
Comfort and sway
They never meant to
Push you away
Now wash your hands
The ones that so perfectly
Handled with care
And gleefully punched
At the hospital air
They’re the same ones that blister
And puncture and tear
They rip at my skin
And they pull at my hair
Now wash your hands
Now wash your hands
I so want to touch you
But what can I say?
You’re arm’s length from me
And just one step away
I dropped the guidebook
That set out the plans
The sign at the station says
Now, wash your hands
These turbulent winds
Took the air from our sails
We cover our eyes
From the sandstorms and the gales
We scratch at the lice
And the vermin and scales
I scrub at the dirt
That’s under my nails
Now wash your hands
Now wash your hands
Now wash your hands
The stroke of the brow
As the child is lulled to sleep
Soft fingers wipe
At the tears that you weep
But I’m holding the ground
And the ground is too steep
I grope for a light
In this cellar so deep
Now wash your hands
Now wash your hands
Now wash your hands
Now wash your hands
Now, wash your hands