Who wait in the café and magazine
Who wait for morning or fag machine
Who leave it all unfinalized
And undecided
We who wait
Who wait in the bus queue and prison cell
Who wait for illness to take its toll
Who wait for God knows what sometimes
It's not clear to
We who wait
I have been dancing in the pity arcade
I'll hug the symbols of my apathy
And hog the taste of anarchy and animosity
It's a means of escape
For those of us who wait
Who wait in drinking and lost career
Who wait for letter or high summer
Who want some kind of clue
It's just not two plus two to
We who wait
We who wait
We who wait
We who wait
Now, waiting