That's me what I'm now, my life is certain.
You'll call me, and I'll say: 'Hello, I'll call later.’
You'll answer: 'OK. I got it. No problem.'
And I'll left with a guilt that you're a waiter.

The time will trip forth, to feelings athwart.
And you'll await for my call all the same.
My answer to you is my heavy load now,
My refusal words and short tones after them...

And you'll await for my call until last,
Until your last profound sigh.
If I could turn all things around,
I'll call you back after a while...
Forgive me...