No point dying of patience

Patiently waiting for your number to be called

I find myself lying on my bed

Wishing the ceiling was blue sky instead

Wishing for blue sky

So I wait table after table into the wee small hours

Eyeing up the tip-jar till it overflows

And so it goes and I write my postcards from the edge

With a promise, unspoken

to keep going 'til there's nothing left

Wishing for blue sky

No point pointing the finger

Patiently waiting for your clouds to burst

So dig, dig, dig a well today

For tomorrow's, tomorrow's thirst

Wishing for blue sky