Is this really all there is?
Cough syrup to sleep
'Til an alarm clock reminds us to breathe
What if we don't set the damn thing?
I suppose it is what it is
Nothing more, nothing less
The lucky ones born into it
The rest of us work
Two sets of fiery eyes
Two sacks of dry skin
Too much to do, too little time
Coffin companions
Early to bed, and weary to rise
A girl with work to do
A boy with two thorns in his side
Of all the coffins
In all the dreadful corners of the world
You chose mine, and I, yours
Singing
And dancing
And aching
Are so overrated
Cough syrup to sleep
'Til an alarm clock reminds us to breathe
What if we don't set the damn thing?
I suppose it is what it is
Nothing more, nothing less
The lucky ones born into it
The rest of us work
Two sets of fiery eyes
Two sacks of dry skin
Too much to do, too little time
Coffin companions
Early to bed, and weary to rise
A girl with work to do
A boy with two thorns in his side
Of all the coffins
In all the dreadful corners of the world
You chose mine, and I, yours
Singing
And dancing
And aching
Are so overrated
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