I wait for morning to spill its light, staining my room crimson gold,
I've hungered long through the night, for just a taste of the dawn,
Circles never start and don't end,
The ticking of the clock marks the time,
Those sleepless hour, dreamless nights, replay anxiety's tune.
Was that you calling my name?
Was that you calling my name?
I'm listening through the door.
My restless toss has a vengeance,
I shut my eyes, squeeze them tight,
It drags me from minute to hour as I strain my ear to the night.
Was that you calling my name?
Was that you calling my name?
Oh, I'm listening through the door,
I'm listening through the door.
I could never see through the ocean until I held it in my hand,
Sometimes more is perceived, oh, in the stillness of a sleepless night.
Was that you calling my name?
Was that you calling my name?
Oh, I'm listening through the door,
Was that you calling my name?
Was that you calling my name?
Oh, I'm listening through the door,
I'm listening through the door.
