Not enough, there are still numbers to come
We'll put them in boxes, we'll find them a home
Not enough, we're out of places
Where can we file time, life and losses?

Look how the clock
Has swept our own lives
On the block
We're like billions of archives

I always thought it would be easy to count
But there's always new water in the fount
Classify with a cut-throat knife
I guess there are too much figures in a life

I'm tired of playing with these rules
My heart has beaten for these numbers enough

I don't want to give the daily proof
That rhythm has to be that tough
I'm tired of playing with these rules
Of playing this game, unchained since 6 am
Unchained with this break that

Smells coffee and suits that smells fear
Look how the clock
Has swept our own lives
Data on the block
We're like billions of archives

I always thought it would be easy to count