Why are those things you admire most in others the hardest to find in yourself?
What is it about me that seems to determine I'm destined to life on the shelf?
This 'wait-a-bit' character waiting to find whatever it is that I lack.
Whenever they ask the real me to step forward, the real me takes a step back.
'Wait a bit,' she says.
'Can't do it,' she says.
'Wait a bit,' she says, not really knowing what she's waiting for.
While he's outgoing, why do I withdraw?
Without conviction and yet somehow sure,
A contradiction that will stay in my mind 'til the day that I find something more.
I'm searching for something they say is within me yet seems to be hidden from sight.
But why should I search when it's not in my nature to come out and stand in the light?
For my expectations are not all that great - just one dream I had hoped to fulfil
And yet when it came to the moment of truth, I proved to myself I'm a still
Wait-a-bit. Am I
Just not fit to fly?
When I came to try I watched the others as they soared and rose.
It seemed so effortless but then, who knows?
Beneath the surface sometimes torment grows.
I plucked up courage for I knew I should fledge.
So I stood on the edge and I froze...
The flightless bird gets by without the flight.
But still I'm still hoping that someday I might.
He made me feel I could soar.
Now only one thing seems sure,
I'll have to wait a bit more...