The Doors

If I waste my life, can I have yours?
I'll sweep the deck and mend the sores
When the lights go out I'll lock the doors
On my own

Was it sixty-two or twenty-five?
When I lost the keys to my beehive
And the last time I saw you alive
Was so long
Ago
I can't quite recall the date

Light, turnin' around on me
As far as my eyes can see
All that's left to be is someone
Who can't quite try to leave
Or soak up what's left to breathe
As far as my chest can heave
As far as I know standing still here
Is all part of the weave

So I've fallen onto my knees
And begged for a life of ease
All I want is a quiet death
From a terminal disease
As long as my brain will freeze
And wake up beneath the trees
And I can always count on something
To drift in with the breeze

One last atrophy, and I'm done, and I'm gone
One last irony, and I'm done, and I'm gone
One last symphony, and I'm done, and I'm gone
One last sympathy, and I'm done, and I'm gone

It was on TV and on the run
Then it settled smoothly on the sun
But it wasn't fooling anyone
So I said
It's okay
It was never meant to speak the truth

If I waste my life, can I have yours?
I'll sweep the deck and mend the sores
When the lights go out I'll lock the doors
On my own