| She is fading in the incense |
| As it burns before her name |
| She is waiting for her husband |
| But her devotion is in vain |
|
| She is standing in the kitchen |
| Like a dancer on the stage |
| Waiting for the music |
| To give her purpose for her pain |
|
| Her children are all screaming |
| With an excitement she desires |
| She smiles as they ask questions |
| About the meaning of their lives |
|
| Through the door then comes her husband |
| He will not look her in the eye |
| She smells the perfume on his clothing |
| But will not let him see her cry |
|
| Back in the kitchen she is waiting |
| She is staring at the sun |
| She is dreaming of escaping |
| But it's a war that can't be won |
|
| But she will write the perfect ending |
| Of which her children can be proud |
| She will prove to them it was worth it |
| She'll make it up to them somehow |
|
| These are long long days |
| These are long long days |
| These are long long days |
| These are long long days... |
|