• All around myself,
    I hear these lovely birds chirping.
    Then it elevates to shrieking,
    And can't hear it anymore.

    Repair my arms and legs,
    I don't need my lungs to live,
    So throw them both away,
    Or store them in case I change my mind.

    I often lose my sight,
    Within the putrid phlegm that life itself,
    Is coughing up right now,
    How long until there's nothing left?

    Deep inside there's meaning.
    That's drowning out the sound.
    But how deep can you really be,
    Before you start to drown?