Boiled Frogs

Album: Crisis (2006)
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  • A man sits at his desk
    One year from retirement
    And he's up for review
    Not quite sure what to do
    Each passing year
    The workload grows

    I'm always wishing
    I'm always wishing too late
    For things to go my way
    It always ends up the same
    (Count your blessings)
    I must be missing
    I must be missing the point
    Your signal fades away
    And all I'm left with is noise
    (Count your blessings on one hand)

    So wait up, I'm not sleeping alone again tonight
    There's so much to dream about
    There must be more to my life

    Poor little tin man
    Still swinging his axe
    Even though his joints are clogged with rust

    My youth is slipping
    My youth is slipping away
    Safe in monotony, (so safe)
    Day after day
    (Count your blessings)
    My youth is slipping
    My youth is slipping away
    Cold wind blows off the lake
    And I know for sure that it's too late
    (Count your blessings on one hand)

    So wait up, I'm not sleeping alone again tonight
    There's so much to dream about
    There must be more to my life

    Can't help but feel betrayed
    Punch the clock every single day
    There's no loyalty and no remorse
    Youth sold for a pension cheque
    And it makes him fucking sick
    He's heating up, he can't say no

    (Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
    (Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
    (Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
    (Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)

    So wait up, I'm not sleeping alone again tonight
    There's so much to dream about
    There must be more to my life
    (So wait up)
    So wait up I'm not sleeping alone again tonight
    Between the light and shallow waves
    Is where I'm going to die

    Wait up for me
    Wait up for me
    Wait up for me Writer/s: Chris Steele, Dallas Green, George Pettit, Jordan Hastings, Wade MacNeil
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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