You reached for my hand without thinkin'
back when we were seventeen.
Didn't matter where we wandered,
didn't matter where we'd been.
Walkin' docks and Sunday sidewalks,
and ridin' nowhere in the car...
somehow your hand found mine
before it found my heart.
When your palm finds mine,
the years all disappear.
Every road behind us
feels like yesterday from here.
These weathered hands remember
every mile that we've been through...
but when your palm finds mine,
I'm still seventeen with you.
There's a little scar across your thumb now—
I still remember where.
A few more lines across my knuckles,
a little silver in your hair.
The years don't keep it secret,
they mark us plain as day...
then your fingers find the space in mine,
and the years just slip away.
When your palm finds mine,
the years all disappear.
Every road behind us
feels like yesterday from here.
These weathered hands remember
every mile that we've been through...
but when your palm finds mine,
I'm still seventeen with you.
I know every mark upon your hands...
every line that time has drawn.
Every scar, every freckle,
every place the years have gone.
Still... without a single thought between us,
like we've always known to do...
your hand reaches out...
and mine reaches too.
When your palm finds mine,
the years all disappear.
Every road behind us
meets tomorrow here.
These weathered hands built everything
we ever called our own...
but when your palm finds mine,
I'm still seventeen...
and finally home.
Here...
take my hand.
I've got you.