|
I've got a chair attached to my ass for 13 hours every day |
|
Add two more after and before, just getting there and away |
|
Like thrown meat landing on a seat - just vegetating in decay |
|
I'm squattified - too settled in, and melting into pear-shaped dismay |
|
Shapes and textures etched into my back on few occasions whence I stand |
|
Impressions of a cushion pressed into a lazy man |
|
The furniture acts like a cookie-cutter - reforming me like wooden hands on flattened dough |
|
Till I tear the glue of hair and sweat and go |
|
The vinyl interlocked with dimples grips my body |
|
Till I'm just a finished pile of human relic on a legged place-mat |
|
I fall between the tensing cracks - I feel trapped on the tracks |
|
I don't need feet - I'm levitated by the seat - yeah, I've got chair ass |
|
Yeah, no, something gone wrong |
|
Here, gone, too late, I'm done |
|
My blood pools in my thighs |
|
I bloat and swell cold till I rise |
|
Numb I stand, arms in clammy palms, rubber bones give at the knee |
|
Ankles thick but empty, couldn't hold the gelatin mold |
|
Watch the cardhouse man fold |
|
Yeah, no, something gone wrong |
|
Here, gone, too late, I'm done |
|
Yeah, no, gone, too late, I'm done |
|
Yeah, no, gone, too late, I'm done |