The Airing of Grievances

She's in love with the morning,
She finds it boring to love something else
Weak, without any warning
Haven't you called me?
I'm already done
I'll wait till' the evening,
I'm hardly believing you're not made of dust

She's a lot like the water,
Fit for a slaughter but never around,
To witness the flashing,
Us tenderly crashing ourselves on the run
I'll wait till' the morning
My mind's already strolling
I'll wait till' the skyline cracks
And the stars all pour out instead

She's in love with the morning,
She finds it boring to love something else
Speak without any warning,
Always so adoring but already gone
She's the daughter of water,
Attract to disorder that's already gone
(I'll wait till you're leaving
I'm hardly breathing, I'm bleeding this dust)