| It’s been three days of drums and snares
|
| Out on the streets and in my head
|
| The piccolos are in this band
|
| With you and me just lying and
|
| Saying «I'll wait»
|
| Saying «always»
|
| To have the chance to be so kind
|
| To someone else who doesn’t mind
|
| Is getting rare and often times
|
| It seems to scare the wandering eye
|
| Looking always
|
| Saying «I'll wait»
|
| This convalesce it is broke
|
| Comforts the test letting go
|
| You snare the game of our heart
|
| But you went gone
|
| So please stow this heart
|
| It’s cold, it’s hard
|
| Please stow this heart
|
| It’s cold, it’s hard
|
| I wandered off under the news
|
| The bezzle town on troll abuse
|
| Just thinking of some name I knew
|
| Without a sense of self to use
|
| Saying «I'll wait»
|
| Saying «always»
|
| And offer come, as soon as I
|
| Knew who it was who wasn’t mine
|
| You had convinced me of the white
|
| And so I left myself behind
|
| Saying «I'll wait»
|
| Saying «always»
|
| This convalesce it is broke
|
| Comforts the test letting go
|
| You snare the game of our heart
|
| But you went gone
|
| So please stow this heart
|
| It’s cold, it’s hard
|
| Please stow this heart
|
| It’s cold, it’s hard |