When I was kidnapped as a child my parents sent a letter to the hijackers me Pay 5,000 dollars or your back

What did my fingers do before they held him?

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof...

Give Me Back My Fingerprints

Give me back my fingerprints
My fingertips are raw
If I don't get my fingerprints
I'll have to call the law
I touched you once too often
I don't know who I am
My fingerprints were missing
When I wiped away the jam

I called my fingerprints all night
But they don't seem to care
The last time that I saw them
They were leafing through your hair
I thought I'd leave this morning
So I emptied out your drawer
A hundred thousand fingerprints
Floated to the floor

You hardly stooped to pick them up
You don't count what you lose
You don't even seem to know
Whose fingerprints are whose
When I had to say goodbye
You weren't there to find
You took my fingerprints away
So I would love your mind

I don't pretend to understand
Just what you mean by that
But next time I'll inquire
Before I scratch your back
I wonder if my fingerprints
Get lonely in the crowd
There are no others like them
And that should make them proud

But now you want to marry me
And take me down the aisle
And throw confetti fingerprints
You know that's not my style
Sure I'd like to marry
But I won't face the dawn
With any girl who knew me
When my fingerprints were on

But the fact that he never expressed it instilled in me a desire to show him that I’d made the right decision. It made me driven. I thought the more successful I got, the more it proved him wrong, whether he acknowledged it or not. Even today, I still sometimes think that I’m trying to show my father what I’m made of, and he’s been dead since 1991.

Give me a used Bible and I will, I think, be able to tell you about a man by the places that are edged with the dirt of seeking fingers.

What an interesting finger
let me suck it.

It's not an interesting finger
take it away.

If I could make you stay, I would,’ he shouted. ‘If I had to beat you, chain you, starve you — if I could make you stay, I would.’ He turned back into the room; the wind blew his hair. He shook his finger at me, grotesquely playful. ‘One day, perhaps, you will wish I had.

I said I had a three-year-old with broken fingers, and you said, ‘Maybe he owed somebody money.’” “Yes,

My art school rejection letter arrived as a cold manila fist that closed around my fragile hopes [...] The fear was practically edible. Nothing would happen unless I get out and make it happen.

Then, as if handing me the keys to the jet pack, my dad bought me a typewriter and a taped message to the inside of its case: 'Son- the world is waiting to hear from you'.

"Now, Bill, sit where you are," said the beggar. "If I can't see, I can hear a finger stirring. Business is business. Hold out your right hand. Boy, take his right hand by the wrist and bring it near my right."
We both obeyed him to the letter, and I saw him pass something from the hollow of the hand that held his stick into the palm of the captain's, which closed upon it instantly.

Since more convincing proof is still demanded, I must make up my mind to humour people. If my consent give reason for offence, So much the worse for him who forced me to it;

Who put these fingerprints on my imagination?

The best part about being kidnapped is being blindfolded and getting kicked into the trunk of a car. Boy, normally I have to beg my friends to treat me that well.