I keep hoping for that day I'll see everything, that, that day everything will not be a waste.
I wonder out to sea watching the waves crashing, I see how the beach dwellers laugh and play, and how the sea gets noticed and not me.
I sit in my chair and tap my pen on my chin, maybe I've became to vain,
maybe I'm wasting my time hoping for the tide to pull me in.
So maybe I'm the moon the controller of the tide and that's why I'm not moving, because I have not done enough for the pull, nor have I called the waves, but I hope for this day when I'll see everything clearly, that it will tell me if I should keep chasing the waves or return to the land.