n o t   t h e   d o c t o r   -   a l a n i s   m o r i s s s e t t e i don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours i don't want to be the glass of single malt whiskey hidden in the bottom drawer and i don't want to be the 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 and i don't want to be your mother i didn't carry you in my womb for nine months show me the back door and visiting hours are from 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 and i don't want to be your other half i believe that one and one make two i don't want to be the light from the fridge on your face at midnight hey what are you hungry for? and i don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together oh, 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 and visiting hours are from 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 live on someday when my motto is last week and i don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart and its wounded beat and i don't want to be the substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling what do you thank me what do you thank me for? and visiting hours are from 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
lyrics | words | gallery | links | design | home | email
		Act V. THE TRUTH. (Love is hard work. And, sometimes, hard work can really hurt.) Love is a game. If they didn't tell you before, we will tell you now. Love is a game and if you play you either win, lose, or get ejected before the game is over. There are no ties. Maybe you'll lose and learn some great, meaningful answer from it all (like if it looks to good to be true, it is). It's easy to love something when you don't have to work at it. It's harder when it asks something of you. You just might be afraid to give. Give it anyway. The heart is the most resilient muscle. It is also the stupidest. So if this love you've found is good to you, hold it, keep it, shout about it. If it isn't, then maybe you should just become very good friends.