People are bored to death at the waiting line
but not us, not us, not us
You needed proof so you went
and tried on your own
but not here, not here, not here
I got tired of waiting and stepped out the line
I may have said it before
I used to wait for it to be the last
Didn't I use to be bored all the time?
I used to always start with "I..."
You used to shine way too much
but not on me, not on me, not on me
You said "maybe later, don't know"
I wasn't gonna wait anymore
and never will for anybody
Waiting and withering one and the same
I'd rather lose all color and shape
than bore to death at the station
I'd sell my name, past and cult
than watch snow winter sacred garden of Time
There must be something else
and I had it always right inside here
I felt it even at my darkest
and after many times of fall
I learnt to shine to its mighty warmth
Most of you people are always wrong
but not us, not us, not us
you who never have believed
never withered of waiting
never lost a train under the snow
never board a cargo leaving at night
never read a paperback under the stars
stolen from a bargain shop in a western town
about the taming of a wild beast
and later dream about life in the past
can't understand the winter of a soul
So come on! We'll take you on!
You who founded guilty of a terrible sin
to live without leaving an indelible stain
but not us, not us, not US
to who we were
