(You call this living but I-)
(You call this living)
(You call-)
There's a screen in the car, on the wall, and in my head
But if I can reach the cord there's no reason to leave my bed
Withering away, one foot in the grave
And the other one behind it
Withering away, one foot in the grave
I don't need to be reminded
That I, I've been busy living
At the same time I don't feel alive
It's the old, old haze of a medicated brain
That keeps me pushing towards that hollow place
I, I don't feel alive
Lock me in
Let this cold heart beat again
I'm as old as I've ever been
I, I've been busy living
At the same time I don't feel alive
It's the old, old haze of a medicated brain
That keeps me pushing towards that hollow place
I, I don't feel alive
(You call this living but I-)
(You call this living)
(You, you call this living)
Just withering away, one foot in the grave
The dirt can take back this bag of bones
Withering away, I don't need you to stay
If you can bury me bored on my phone
'Cause I, I've been busy living
At the same time I don't feel alive
It's the old, old haze of a medicated brain
That keeps me pushing towards my final day
I, I don't feel alive
