She’s not that feeble sort of child, so fragile
That she could be kept down for long
She’s got that manic mood that’s mildly wild
It keeps her moving now that Daddy is gone

It’s only been a month since then
We know we prob’ly should be worried about her

Soft hands keep pulling at my sleeve
(Asking: Mister, won't you dance with me?)
No matter what I do they will not accept defeat

It’s disconcerting just how much she cares for me
Despite how little I for her
A girl of my own age
She’d be the perfect way
To earn a respite from my ongoing struggle

If I weren't so consumed
I'm sure that I would find some time to give her

Soft hands keep pulling at my sleeve
(Still imploring: Won’t you dance with me?)
No matter what I say they will not accept defeat

Anybody else
Would feel estranged
And then back down
But maybe they
Can pull me out

Soft hands are dancing into the street
(As if someone else is pulling strings)
A smile and a wave and then they start to fade

My hands reach out and catch the breeze
(Soft hands, won’t you dance with me?)
There’s nothing I can do, the two have met defeat

Soft hands keep pulling at my sleeve
There's nothing I can do