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