The hardest thing you can do is wait.

Life gives us so few pleasures,
And when we receive these fatal treasures,
Something stops us from these painful places
And brings a smile to these dying faces.

Love won is never love lost,
Time looks gentle with her hands made of fragile frost,
A sudden change will break,
And we fear it will take.

Birds fly upon a scorn less sky,
Trees of flesh stand high,
No ruler to capitalist rule,
Yet no workers for the communist tools.

The gears of motion slowly turn,
Why so slow we will never learn,
Be grateful for the time we heave,
And remove the taint we will surely leave.

Should a man be bound by ancient law,
Who state his will is strong as straw,
The passion and emotion a man can lead,
And the mercy and chance for redemption,
He will surely plead.

If love be blind,
It can not surely be kind,
To leave a desperate man waiting,
Waiting to the works he is creating.

I wait for this lightless sun to pass,
My brittle bones made of glass,
If I fall I will shatter,
With no hands to hold me when my shards scatter.

The internal ticking of a silent bomb,
It is impossible to remain calm,
I wait because I love,
I have strength from him above.

If love be blinded,
If love be simple minded,
If love be reminded,
I
Love
You.

And waiting is a torture,
That burns my soul a charcoal black.