There's a longing we share, you know, for the waves at dawn —
it comes and goes, it seethes and flows.

Am I wrong to be waiting for you?
Am I wrong to be waiting for you?

Well I'd rather dance alone than wonder…
I'd rather dance alone than wonder, “Could he love a girl? Could he love a girl?”
(Could he love a girl? Could he love a girl?)

There's a wound that we share, you know, from the path we chose —
it pulls us low, it bleeds and grows.

Am I wrong to be waiting for you?
Am I wrong to be waiting for you?

Well I'd rather dance alone than wonder…
I'd rather dance alone than wonder, “Could he love a girl?
Could he break his stubborn will for her?
Could he love a girl?
Could he break his stubborn will for her?”