Waste

what a waste of all that feeling  
that aching wonder of what's to come  
the possibility itself stringing me along  
slipping faster than our setting sun  

I waste my own time in hope for your courage  
I waste the patience I owe my own heart  
I own every wasted second I've chosen  
too far to go, and so far from the start.  
 
but I didn't ask for any of this  
the stars, the moon, or the sunset  
and I know that there's hope,
and I know that there's time,  
and a lot that I haven't done yet  
 
I've waited for something to wake me up,
something sharp to shock my system  
but life's up to you, and if mine's up to me,  
I'll be my own greatest victim.