All I’ve ever really wanted was a hand to hold.
There were times where I was reaching,
But everyone was too busy, too tired, too old.
Finally a lone hand sunk down into my sea
And I clutched it so tight
That I almost dragged it down with me.

In fear and panic
I let it go,
So I wouldn’t wreck its chances.
So here I still wait, regretting my choices
And making hopeful glances.
I'm searching for a hand,
But slowly my arm is weakening.
This is not what I had planned.

And that sad part is I know
If I again found a hand to hold,
I be too exhausted to hang on.