Through Your Hands David Crosby

You were dreaming on a park bench
About a broad highway somewhere
When the music from the carillon
Seemed to hurl your heart out there
Past the scientific darkness
Past the fireflies that float
To an angel bending down
To wrap you in her warmest cloak
And you ask
"What am I not doing?"
She says
"Your voice cannot command"
She says, "In time you will move
Mountains
And it will come
Through your hands."

Still you angle for an option
Still you argue for your cause
Like you wouldn't know a burning
Bush
Till it blew up in your face
We dream about the future
We memorize the past
When just a simple reaching out
Could build a bridge that lasts
And you ask
"What am I not doing?"
She says
"Your voice cannot command"
She says, "In time you will move
Mountains
And it will come
Through your hands."