The Truth

So I crawled down the stairs to the truth,
that is sleeping alone, on a bed,
the mosquito net weeping above.
That lazy old truth, been lying there for weeks.
So I throw myself on to the bed,
onto the mercy of the truth,
who is stirring and trying to cheer up the net,
and afterwards me,
and I'm feeling weak.

Cause I could go on, and on,
deluding myself.
Waiting in the shadows,
I am waiting for something else
to come along and put things in order.
Meanwhile, I raise my hands above the water.
Ready, I am in position.
Just promise you'll be here soon.

2
So all of the people around,
I don't wanna grow old like them.
Bracing, and grabbing too tight to not much.
But I start feeling tired a little earlier each day.
So I'm looking to re-arrange the dawn,
to tidy up the order of events,
and unwind every thread of regret.
But take that away, and what is there left?

From now on, I just know things will be different.
See the waves?
They're all nodding their agreement.
If you promise you'll be here soon