My fingers cannot scale a melody or take a rule across lands, to the sea and back again. My fingers have never pressed these strings into sounds worthwhile, nor have they ever held a person's hand and not felt utterly incapable of human touch. These fingers know only strength in binding; in fidget and rhyme, as I try to structure confusion into something marketable. If nothing else though, these fingers can roll a mean joint, and hold a beer bottle so precisely to these lips.