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I look out the window and stare at the sky, there’s nowhere I’m going today
The men on the TV talk of numbers and crime, there seems so much more they could say
Will the devil find some use for these idle hands
Will the devil find some use for these i-i-idle hands
I walk to the milkbar, I see magazines, I’ve never seen so many false smiles
They shout about actors and friends of the queen, and all of the things you can buy
Will the devil find some use for these idle hands
Will the devil find some use for these i-i-idle hands
I open the paper I read every word, I’ve got nothing better to do
It seems that it’s only the bosses get heard, they say that the unions are through
Will the devil find some use for these idle hands
Will the devil find some use for these i-i-idle hands
Oh I guess I can sit here and shrink or get off my arse and make a stand
Every day that passes I feel less of a man
I go to the pub and I sit at the bar, there’s more of us there every day
We sit on our beers, they go flat in the glass, there’s anger spat out in the trays
Will the devil find some use for these idle hands
Will the devil find some use for these i-i-idle hands
bob's songs 