Waiting On You

Don't go down so gently into those deep wells; 
remember your knees in the wet grass.
I know we've been so lost and torn up
in forests so solemn with regret and sorrow.

Reach for my, reach for my, reach for my hands;
they're seldom so open and reckless with hope–
more often with caution stead fast to the rope.
I've never seen myself so graceful and light;
asleep deep in each other's memories tonight.

I'm just waiting on you to bring yourself to justice.
Forget about the past–it's all wet and rusted.
I'm just waiting on you to know we've been discovered,
that what we've been's been uncovered.
I'm just waiting on you.

Don't go down so gently into those deep wells.
We cast shadows past in those wounded fields
and something seems so awfully awry in the meadow:
a silence that creeps through the dead grass.

Reach for my, reach for my, reach for my hands
they're icy as sheets in the stiff night.
We whisper with tales of defeats 
and wild days behind us so ragged and weak 
while desperation seeps through the wide sky we'll speak 
with the other's each others so sunken, so deep, 
alone but together we've emptied our dreams
on the floor of this New York apartment we creep 
through a darkness we never we thought we would see.
You're heartbeat and shirt sleeves, your hair on my cheek.
I'd die now if only it were up to me.

I'm guessing we wandered to close to the water.
The current's been sweeping us in.

I'm just waiting on you to bring yourself to justice.
Forget about the past–it's all wet and rusted.
I'm just waiting on you to know we've been discovered,
that what we've been's been uncovered.
I'm just waiting on you to let go of sharp objects
and keep those hands kept in context.
I'm just waiting on you to breathe without permission,
acutely drawn with precision.
I'm just waiting on you.

I'm guessing we wandered to close to the water.
The current's been sweeping us in.