a little
i don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
i don't want to be the glass of single malt whiskey hidden in the bottom drawer
and i don't want to be the bandage if the wound is not mine
lend me some fresh air
i don't want to be adored for what i merely represent to you
i don't want to be your babysitter, you're a very big boy now
and i don't want to be your mother i didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
show me the back door
and visiting hours are from 9 to 5 and if i show up at 10 past 6
well i already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh,
mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
you see it's too much to ask for and i am not the doctor
i don't want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon
and i don't want to be your other half i believe that one and one make two
i don't want to be the light from the fridge on your face at midnight
hey what are you hungry for?
and i don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
oh, i don't want to be your idol, see this pedestal is high and i'm afraid of heights
i don't want to be lived through a vicarious occasion
please open the window
and visiting hours are from 9 to 5 and if i show up at 10 past 6
well i already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh,
mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
you see it's too much to ask for and i am not the doctor
i don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
and i don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and its wounded beat
and i don't want to be the substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
what do you thank me
what do you thank me for?
and visiting hours are from 9 to 5 and if i show up at 10 past 6
well i already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh,
mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
you see it's too much to ask for and i am not the doctor