waiting

Waiting for an answer with a headache throbbing, trying to think clearly, yet the pain is robbing my sensibility toward comprehension, no it's not from tension. I think it's from the pollen that we've all been callin' for and spring has sprung and the hammer's swung against the anvil in my cranium. Even so I'm waitin' though the hurt is gratin' against my nerves of steel, still it's worth the waiting, the anticipating, not with hesistating I keep looking to see que sera, what will be?