I wait, and I wait, and I wait.
For what? I do not know.
I feel, and I feel, and I feel.
For what? I do not know.
I love, and I love, and I love.
For what? I do not know.
It's all just a shadow from before
that takes over what I really need to do.
And as I feel every instance take its toll,
as I deteriorate from every blow,
the wounds fade only to appear again
on the palms of my fragile hands.
It shall be for the whole world to see.
Within the broke promises, they strive.
Still encompassed inside my trembling hands...
these wounds, they will not die.