Hands

Step away from the stage
You’re crowding me
Participate in the suffocation, i can’t breathe
Ahhh…
Tell me what’s with your sense of entitlement
Hands off my guitar
You have your space
And we have ours, it’s ours
Ours, it’s ours not yours
Step ahead to the stage
We’re crowding in
Boy it’s good to be young and great to be thin
Ya ya ya ya…
We paid six dollars, now we want enlightenment