My heart's been recycled
My heart's been put in the trash
My heart's been used and abused
My heart's been traded for cash

My veins have been poked and pricked
My veins are green and blue
My veins form a weird omen shape
Like a death-eater's tattoo

I used to have quick reflex
Could catch flying objects
Now all I can do is text
Under technology's hex

I used to be normal
Till someone took a picture
Now defined by the mystery down under
Defined by a strange tincture

My skin has been burned and scarred
By accidents, aging and stress
My skin covers up my skeleton
But it crawls every time I get undressed

My brain has something wrong with it
My brain is the cura and the curse
My brain's been scanned, fried, almost lobotomized
My right-brain is the drunk co-pilot, my left brain's in my purse

I used to be wild and vain
Now I'm sensitive and insane
In this trade-off what remains?
Flesh wounds for angels' slain