Living Ain'T Breathing

Word Lyric #8 for Music “Living Ain’t Breathing” Never mind the dead flowers, and the beige coffin, We all sit here and eat burnt popcorn quite often. We lie around and pretend we’re alive and kicking, No sense in moving; we already gave life a good licking. Now we play games in the darkness by the candle light, We seek momentary bliss in the shadows of the numbing night We peer and squint and gaze at the dirt from above, We squirm motionless inside ourselves like a melting dove. The dead around us are forever speechless in their wreathing, They blink madly at the thought, that living ain’t breathing. Never mind the drooping ferns, and the open coffin, I have been sitting here, and dry heaving, quite often. I just hang around and pretend I’m okay, though alive, The dead cannot hear me; their pleas I cannot revive. My soul reposes there, inside the bronze cushioned box, As the face of my eternal love, though dead, still talks. Escape is worthy from the endless flow of days and nights, From the forever glow of a million incandescent lights. The dead around us are forever speechless in their wreathing, They blink madly at the thought, that living ain’t breathing.