Besedila: King Crimson. Two Hands.

Oh, they're touching, they're touching each other
They're feeling, they push and move
And love each other, love each other
They fit together like two hands

I am a face in the painting on the wall
I pose and shudder
And watch from the foot of the bed
Sometimes I think I can feel everything

The wind is blowing, my hair in their direction
The wind is bending my hair
There are no windows in the painting
No open windows, no open windows, no