keep wastin'
your bated breath
you're sucking up
all the carbonated air
inside this cycled tight room
don't inhale
and exhale too fast
because the windows
are sealed shut at last
and look!
there's the threshold
of death's door of doom

don't ask to borrow
any air from my only collapsing lungs
i've paid my dues
i've expressed my views
and now i'm just tryin'
to have some fun

there's a moth
silly and little
that's quickly flying circles
'round your head
but think of how many
of his or her friends
can feast on your formed body
once you are delightfully dead
and the rain is quickly pouring
so to the moon
the moths begin flying
but the sun will return once again
along with them
to cook your body to their liking