All the answers I do not know To these questions that press us so So I am going to take it slow Until the morning... The situation's delicate With an impending sense of dread Forget everything that I have said Until the morning... And we try, and we try But the pieces don't fit right The edge is frayed and tore And do not seem to work anymore I do not want to really feel Because then it all will become real Let us just pretend Until the morning... And it takes my breath away Just how quickly fire can fade I'll lay in this bed that I have made Until the morning... And we try, and we try But the pieces don't fit right The edge is frayed and tore And do not seem to work anymore You let out a gentle sigh Feels somehow like fate resigned But I will put this out of my mind Until the morning...