hang on,
'til your dying day
swinging in the breeze
whistle while you freeze
and pray for
something you believe
sing it out to sea
sing it out to me

while in the warmth of a tom
i was thinking to presume
you had the gall
something kept me waiting
for your call
to get through
i was sinking in my room

hang on,
waiting for the way
take it while you can
satisfy demands
and pray for
liar's blood to be
carried out to sea
buried out to sea

while in the warmth of a tom
i was thinking to presume
you had the gall
something left me waiting
for the fall to assume
there was nothing left in bloom