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All the answers I do not know
To these questions that press us so
So I am going to take it slow
Until the morning...
The situation's delicate
With an impending sense of dread
Forget everything that I have said
Until the morning...
And we try, and we try
But the pieces don't fit right
The edge is frayed and tore
And do not seem to work anymore
I do not want to really feel
Because then it all will become real
Let us just pretend
Until the morning...
And it takes my breath away
Just how quickly fire can fade
I'll lay in this bed that I have made
Until the morning...
And we try, and we try
But the pieces don't fit right
The edge is frayed and tore
And do not seem to work anymore
You let out a gentle sigh
Feels somehow like fate resigned
But I will put this out of my mind
Until the morning...