I'd like to do some calculations
In the hopes that I'll come to some realizations.
My mind is not what it used to be,
That certainly isn't news to me,
But I want to know how my life was spent
Now that I know that I'm near the end.
So I add, subtract, multiply, and divide
To try and figure out what I did with my life.

I spent twenty-seven years in my bed,
And there's not much that I would've preferred to do instead.
I spent two years chewing, and six months wooing,
And, I'm sure you're curious, almost three years pooing.
I spent twenty-five years working for a guy,
That I wanted to kill when I didn't want to die,
But I spent fifty-seven years loving you my friend,
So I guess it all makes sense at the end.

I spent nearly a full year masturbating,
Second only to the year we spent copulating.
I know you're not a fan of this vulgarity,
But completeness is important for full clarity.
I spent more than seven years watching television,
And how could I not regret that decision,
But I don't think that I'll ever know how much time,
I did or didn't spend lookin' into your eyes.

I spent twenty-seven years in my bed,
And there's not much that I would've preferred to do instead.
I spent two years chewing, and six months wooing,
And, I'm sure you're curious, almost three years pooing.
I spent twenty-five years working for a guy,
That I wanted to kill when I didn't want to die,
But I spent fifty-seven years loving you my friend,
So I guess it all makes sense at the end.

I've never known any way but numbers and sums
To understand what we are and what we have become,
But like numbers are perfect, that's how this has been for me,
And I hope that I still give you everything you need.
Eighty years alive and four eating food.
Five reading books and fifty-seven with you.
Two eyes, one nose, one smile, one life.
It somehow isn't ever quite enough time.

I spent twenty-seven years in my bed,
And there's not much that I would've preferred to do instead.
I spent two years chewing, and six months wooing,
And, I'm sure you're curious, almost three years pooing.
I spent twenty-five years working for a guy,
That I wanted to kill when I didn't want to die,
But I spent fifty-seven years loving you my friend,
So I guess it all makes sense at the end.


Lyrics submitted by aliciamarie2007

I Guess It All Makes Sense at the End song meanings
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