Show me your hands!
I wanna know how you dance, pretty baby, by the light of the moon.
If you carry your lovers around in a heart like a tomb, with a view,
I wanna know how you lose, pretty baby, does it show in your eyes?
Were you born to be a runner, or are you a casual sigh?
Did the boys at school break your precious heart in two?
And in every sad, sad country song,
Is there a little bitty piece of 'em still hanging on?
Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine, my dear.
Then We'll bury these old ghosts here.
Where'd you get those eyes?
What do you see those eyes, pretty darling, in the dead of the night?
Are you saying your prayers or are you glowing like the metal on the edge of the knife?
Baby whose name sounds right on the lips of my Queen?
Am I speaking in riddles, or do you feel what I mean?
Are you dying to move, or are you dying to be the one moved?
And would you shake, shake, shake, shake Senora.
If I could make you feel like he used to make you feel.
I'll swing you a song and I'll dance you a dance my dear,
And we'll bury these old ghosts here.