The dreams all stop at 6 a.m.
The alarm clock rings once again
Pump my body full of caffeine
Aim my briefcase for the door
One more suburban blast-off
Hear the countdown, 1, 2, 3, 4

I don't want to be a number on a turnstile
Another figure in a government file
I don't want to be a byte in the program
Seven digits on a telephone dial

Fast forward, fast forward
Time keeps slipping away
Fast forward, fast forward
Tell me where my life has gone
Fast forward, fast forward
Time keeps slipping away
Fast forward, fast forward

I do my job; I earn my pay
Who needs dreams anyway
But now the days all fall in number
Leaves on a dying tree
Even wide awake I slumber
Am I killing time or is it killing me?

I don't want to be a time-clock punch card
Another scene on the cutting room floor
I don't want to be a marker in a graveyard
My life has got to count for something more

Fast forward, fast forward
Time keeps slipping away
Fast forward, fast forward
Tell me where my life has gone
Fast forward, fast forward
Time keeps slipping away
Fast forward, fast forward

Fast forward, fast forward
Time keeps slipping away
Fast forward, fast forward
Tell me where my life has gone
Fast forward, fast forward
Time keeps slipping away
Fast forward, fast forward
Now tell me where my life has gone