There's Not A Cure

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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