In fragile china I hold my hopes of yesterday
Cupping my hands in fear that they might spill away
Not a breath taken, no, they might fly from me
Cupped in my hand is truly where they're suppose to be

I catch each hope as they trickle down my face
No one understanding why I do this in such haste
But if yesterday is unlike the present, in which it's always assured
And I dare not dip my dreams in the tyrant called the future

My eyes, they never stray from fragile china in my hand
Slowly I choose to walk, apart from my fellow man
My fears they increase only 'cause it's filling up
And with that, my grip tightens, and soon I'll shatter my cup