Naked bodies of anorexic contortionists
Jutting ribcages spear fragile paper flesh
Purple-blue highways of giving/taking streams
Shine through windows of transparent skin

Dancing skeletons of vacant eyes and stomachs
Every perfect bone perfectly bare for all
In disdain of fleshy self-packaging masks
Filled with empty nothings, maybe you can fly.

Absolute freedom persecuted disease, disorder
Force-fed back into the bodily prison of meat
Unwillingly anchored to the heavy hefty world
Why couldn't they let you be happy and pretty?