Lyrics by Alanis Morissette; music by Glen Ballard and Alanis Morissette



I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours

I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey

Hidden in the bottom drawer

I don't want to be a 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

I don't want to be your mother

I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months

Show me the back door



Chorus:

Visiting hours are 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

I don't want to be your other half I believe that 1 and 1 make 2

I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge

on your face at midnight

Hey what are you hungry for

I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together

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



Repeat Chorus



I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week

I don't want to be responsible for your fractured hear

and its wounded beat

I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling

What do you thank me

What do you thank me for



Repeat Chorus