Beautiful, cold and in waiting
lost, but not really escaping
the things that we seek
to pretend we are great
it is really ourself who is wasting
away on a warm afternoon
deceived by a comfortable light
almost in heaven, you think, still forgetting
the things you are here for in life
while seeking another's perfection
in hope that their world comes to you
you threw it away, your beauty's escaping
left cold and in waiting, for who?