Text: Playing With Matches. Going Through The Motions.

While I sit and chat, you hold a staring match with the floor mat.
You see, that's what I mean, Sweetheart.
my life's like a container that sorts your pills apart; each day's got a different name but they all make me feel the same.
When they say 'we're living well but when you don't love what you live it becomes a living hell.'
Going through the motion.
Going through the motion.
Going through the motions, yet who's next in line cause I resign.
We cashed up on the last check hoping this next one's gonna last us.
Playing catch up with these trust-fund babies in these Mercedes, as they pass us sitting slow lane in a Status.
We're going through the motion; cashing checks and getting mine.
But somewhere I got a notion, that a passionless life's a waste of time.
Going through the motion.
Going through the motion.
Going through the motions, yet who's next in line cause I resign.
Going through the motion Everyday.
Going through the motion. Same damn thing.
Going through the motions, yet who's next in line cause I resign.
Now it's too late for a second chance.
Now I'm drinking to forget, while paying in advance.
Too late for a second chance. And I'm drinking to forget, don't fret. I'm paying in advance.
Going through the motion.
Going through the motion.
Going through the motions, yet who's next in line cause I resign.
Going through the motion. Everyday.
Going through the motion. Same damn thing.
Going through the motions, yet who's next in line cause I resign

(Thanks to Tara for these lyrics)