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