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I pissed my pants, I shat the bed and no-one fucking cares
I'm stiff and sore from head to foot, can't breathe the stinking air
Every clock tick hits my ears like a hammer to the skull
The extractor fan keeps wailing until all my senses dull
I'm in a vegetative state
But I feel fine
I'm quite content here on my own, the boredom's fucked my speech
And if it gets excessive I'll just down a pint of bleach
Doesn't matter when I die, just matters if I leave a mess
Because isolation killed off all emotions I'd repress