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 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
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

Chorus
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