There's Not A Cure
What’s the passion, what’s the standard?
Fit for fashion, fit for hazard
I know this for sure: there’s not a cure
I’ve been here for, at least a while
Never seen a light, like your smile
I know this for sure: there’s not a cure
Waiting by your side—waiting to deny
All that I would say—don’t turn around, don’t walk away
What’s the reason, what’s the hurry?
What’s the season, full of fury?
I know this for sure: there’s not a cure
What’s the passion, what’s the standard?
Where’s the rationale, where’s the hazard
I know this for sure: there’s not a cure
Standing by your side—waiting to deny
All that I would say—don’t say it’s too late
Just what would it take—what else did you need
I’ve been here before—I’ll do anything
All that’s said and done—all for which you wish
One thing I have heard—never question this
It’s all I could do—all that I could say
Last thing I deserve—to be turned around and pushed away