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