Promises of tomorrow are the hammering nights of today. Blankly I stare into the void, Hints of dawn sleepily emerge. Wars waged before my eyes. When the darkness dissipates, I will still be without any answers. I can't save you... I'm too late... I wade drearily through the guilt and the shame In a myopic acceptance that there is not atonement. Sleeplessness makes the morning so stark, So frail, so callous. Still I wait. The day star crawls to its peak And all but sets me aflame. One foot in front of the other And I dutifully wait. You aren't coming. I know that now. Still I wait - for meaning. Meaning (that) was stolen. And abandoned. The sun never sets Over this failure. And in that endless noon No one can forgive me. What should I have said? The answers never come. The answers refuse to come. Lapsing too are those promises. When the darkness dissipates, I will still be without any answers. I can't save you... I'm too late...