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Dizzy

de Sixpence None The Richer

I'm like Thomas doubting
Fingers routing the scars
In tour wrists and side
Touching flesh will make my mind believe

But I want to be like David
Throwing his clothes to the wind
To dance a jig in my skin
And me remade by your cleansing again

I give you myself, it's all that I have
Broken and frail, I'm clay in your hands
And I'm spinning unconcealed
Dizzy on this wheel for you, my love

I'm like Peter crying
Crowing burn in my ears
Still you come near
You take my hand and place in my palm
An eternal chance

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