I don't want to be the filler
If the void is solely yours
I don't want to be your glass
Of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don't want to be a 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
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb
For nine months
Show me the back door

Visiting hours are nine to five
and if I show up at ten past six, 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
I don't want to be your other half
I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don't want to be your food
Or the light from the fridge
On your face at midnight
Hey what are you hungry for

I don't want to be the glue
That holds your pieces together
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

Visiting hours are nine to five
And if I show up at ten past six
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
I don't want to be responsible
For your fractured heart
And its wounded beat
I don't want to be a substitute
For the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for

Visiting hours are nine to five and if
I show up at ten past six
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

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