• Many a night I've laid in wake
    While trying to lay my weary head to rest
    Trying to speak words that often were spake
    To calm the beating within my breast

    Such nervousness of the results of my actions
    And of things that cannot be known to me
    Time wasted on thoughts
    Of things that have passed, and things yet to be

    How can I be certain each night
    That when I wake
    Things will be the same as they were the day before?
    What if you decide
    Upon waking yourself
    That you don't love me anymore?