Oh maybe air tastes free when my lungs can still accept it,
but now I’m bleeding underneath and the tissue rips like fabric.
Never had it, but I want it; took the time to let it slide.
If I told you that I miss it then of course it'd be a lie.
Speaker says, “Sleeper, see? Your body grows weaker
the longer you lay lying to yourself and to others.”
But I feel safe under these covers,
where I'm not bothered unless its urgent.
I'll grow a conscience when it's worth it.
‘Cuz hair and nails will grow long after we’re dead,
and as long as we’re alive we might as well celebrate it.