Tekst:
Poor Old Lu The Waiting Room

walls are getting thin The clock is moving slow My breathing comes and goes The room is getting small The sin is growing tall We wait for the day We wait

It promises much It promises you'll never be cold The words are such As to turn you until you are sold And walk in this rut And run in the ground where

On top of the world I am proud In my heaven A star in the sky Shine so bright Like the weather I am sight and I am sound They are lost and I am found

I see... You are merciful I see... You are kind I see... You are full of love that is far beyond my mind I hope... for strength to stand I hope... to

It is the sweetest thing to know that To know it is right And what a sight To step ahead and see the Son, now... Not a cloud in mind Or waiting on time

It swept me in and tossed me out, I fear And the consequence is clear Listen to the heartbreak, my dear And now I sit alone I count the words in me "

walls are getting thin The clock is moving slow My breathing comes and goes The room is getting small The sin is growing tall We wait for the day We wait