Hands all over the Eastern border
You know what? I think we're falling
 [bad word] 
Hands all over Western culture [bad word] feathers and turning eagles into vultures

Got my arms around baby brother
Put your hands away
You're gonna kill your mother, kill your mother
And I love her

Hands all over the coastal waters
The crew men thank her
Then lay down their oily blanket
Hands all over the inland forest
In a striking motion trees fall down
Like dying soldiers

Hands all over the peasant's daughter
She's our bride
She'll never make it out alive
Hands all over the words I utter
Change them into what you want to
Like balls of clay
Put your hands away
You're gonna kill your mother
And I love her