| The phone is ringing as i dig for a pen
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| I change my face and answer and then
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| Grope and sputter for the right thing to say
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| To earn another week, say given time I can pay
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| What about the bills, what about the rent?
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| What about the days in the park you never spent?
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| I wonder whats the use
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| I need time to have a purpose
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| My treasure map’s been on the shelf for so long
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| It’s not my choice and that’s what’s so wrong
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| Our time together, a receipt in her purse
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| One makes up the other and that makes it worse
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| What about the streets, what about the crowd?
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| What about the simple existence you avowed?
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| What about the words written on her face?
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| What about your promise to leave this place?
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| Not alive, just living
|
| Not alive, just living
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| I wonder what’s the use
|
| I need time to have a purpose
|
| Not alive, just living
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| When we’re done packing and I crawl in the van
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| I’ll smash the phone just as fast as I can
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| I can’t remember when I didn’t know
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| About loans and touch tone phones, it wasn’t that long ago
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| What about those feelings, what about that touch?
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| What about the little things that used to mean so much?
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| What about my hopes, what about my fear?
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| What about my heart that won’t produce tears anymore?
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| Not alive, just living
|
| Not alive, just living
|
| I wonder what’s the use
|
| I need time to have a purpose
|
| Not alive, just living |