I wasn’t born with this body.

...this carriage of flesh and bone

I wasn't born with this body.

I'm fairly certain it isn't mine.

It's never looked quite right, to be honest.

And it misbehaves most of the time.

This body's never done what I asked of it.

Never represented me very well at all.

I've worked pretty hard to change it.

But it still never answers the call.

What to do. What to do.

With this skin I'm living in.

What to do, what to do.

When you can't call yourself a friend.

—

Well, I put it to work right away

Made this old carcass earn its keep

All the maintenance it requires

The daily rituals run so deep

Bathing, shaving, trimming, brushing

And the feeding never ends

Then what happens after that

Well, let's just say it all depends

What to do. What to do.

With this skin I'm living in.

What to do, what to do.

When you can't call yourself a friend.

—

Mirrors, windows, looking glass

Those reflections are never me

I've bumped and bruised and buried it

Drank and smoked to set it free

Built it up and tore it down

But what I see is never me

What to do. What to do.

With this skin I'm living in.

What to do, what to do.

When you can't call yourself a friend.

—

I wasn't born with this body.

This carriage of flesh and bone.

This painful house of reckoning

is surely not my home.

I don't know what will become of me,

when I finally take my leave.

But hopefully,

if I've done it right,

I'll finally feel like me.

Yeah, I'll finally feel like me.

---

I love you guys.

-Paul 😊