(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