Waiting by the door

Feeling a bit sore

But itís your imagination

Of rules in which I bend

A candled situation

Burning at both ends


But when the daylight starts to wander

And your eyes hit the floor

Stare into your nasty habit

Of running me through your revolving door


Chasing a clear sky

Wasting as I try

Oh, so blind to loveís addiction

This pain on which I feed

A futile complication

Feeling thoughts of need


Just as the dark skies start to brighten

And your eyes plead for more

Fall into my sinking habit

Of crawling back through your revolving door