Laying down is fun when you don't have to do a thing If I think I'm done, then I will not do a thing When I get back home, I tend to fall asleep fast Tired to the bone, no wonder I'm always last The flies are on my food before I even touch it Soon the mold will grow, and I haven't ate a bit At least I dream about myself doing something I think that's a lot better than doing nothing I stare at the ceiling, hey, isn't that something? I feel no feelings, but I feel what I'm becoming If I start to melt, can my bedsheets be changed? If I'm stuck a year, then I guess there is no point Body turns to filth, only shower is my sweat Teeth start falling out, cannot handle all the dirt Bones begin to show, skin tears and they are revealed Heart will then stop beating as the sloth consumes me whole