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Waiting for the Call
A pool of black, black spilled ink
Don't wanna take time, time to think
Not a tear will this strong girl cry
This craven girl, one day she'll fly
Tired of having to reiterate
That no, she doesn't have a date,
And yearning that it wasn't true
Her unkempt hair and loneliness, too.
No redress for the broken-hearted
The diffident, and never-started
She doesn't care when they scrutinize,
Doesn't look in their judging eyes
There's solace in an empty room
But what's to stop impending doom?
Only musty, broken hearts grow old.
Yet, frozen ones only get more cold.
Too meticulous and scrupulous,
Making just too much of a fuss.
It's not too late to fix what's broken
Call her up, let it be spoken.
Let yourself be loved, if you'll allow
You've only got one moment, do it now!
Black, black ink, with a drop of gold
Frozen hearts don't have to stay cold.
This is your story, let it be told...