| I don’t want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
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| I don’t want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
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| Hidden in the bottom drawer
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| I don’t want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
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| Lend me some fresh air
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| I don’t want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
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| I don’t want to be your babysitter
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| You’re a very big boy now
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| I don’t want to be your mother
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| I didn’t carry you in my womb for nine months
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| Show me the back door
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| Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
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| Well I already know that you’d find some way to sneak me in and oh
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| Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
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| You see it’s too much to ask for and I am not the doctor
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| I don’t want to be the sweeper of the egg shells that you walk upon
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| And I don’t want to be your other half, I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
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| I don’t want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face
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| At midnight, hey
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| What are you hungry for
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| I don’t want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
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| I don’t want to be your idol
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| See this pedestal is high and I’m afraid of heights
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| I don’t want to be lived through
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| A vicarious occasion
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| Please open the window
|
| Visiting hours are 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
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| I don’t want to be responsible for your fractured heart
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| And it’s wounded beat
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| I don’t want to be a substitute for the smoke you’ve been inhaling
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| What do you thank me
|
| What do you thank me for
|
| Visiting hours are 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 |