[Intro] I keep imagining a body that doesn't betray me, A synthetic silhouette built to replace me, No pulse in the panic, no weakness in the wiring, No biological sentence, no cells quietly expiring. They tell me, "Be grateful, you're alive, you're intact," But intact is another word for permanently trapped. I stare at my reflection like a failed prototype, Wondering what I'd look like if I rebuilt it right. [Verse 1] My flesh fails daily, incremental deterioration, A biochemical catastrophe disguised as habitation. Adipose accumulation, lethargic respiration, Every movement feels like gravitational taxation. Memory fragments, where'd I put that? What was I doing? Neural degradation hiding underneath the human fluidity. I envision senescence, cortical erosion, Eighty years from now with my vision decomposing. Photophobia, goddamn sun feels radioactive, Skin screaming at a star everyone calls attractive. Inactive, insensitive, disconnected from sensation, A biological machine with defective calibration. I know it's hypothetical, maybe I'm delusional, But the future keeps whispering something beautiful: "You don't need the weakness. You don't need the pain. You don't need the flesh if you can manufacture the frame." [Hook] So cut away, Every limitation that I inherited. Cut away, Every fragile little part I never wanted. Replace the eyes, replace the spine, Replace the organs running overtime. If perfection is a machine away, Why the fuck should I remain the same? [Verse 2] I fantasize prosthetics with obscene sophistication, Cybernetic augmentation beyond human limitation. Titanium skeleton, polymer articulation, Artificial organs operating without degradation. Optical replacements with infinite resolution, No retinal deterioration, no ocular confusion. Memory backed externally, cognition augmented, Every weakness systematically corrected. No fatigue, no biological decay, No sensitivity to sunlight ruining another day. Synthetic epidermis, adaptive pigmentation, Thermal regulation under algorithmic supervision. The media would call it liberation with complications, Psychological consequences, irreversible alterations. Identity dissociation, experimental neural sutures, Millions for a body built beyond its former features. [Hook] So cut away, Every limitation that I inherited. Cut away, Every fragile little part I never wanted. Replace the eyes, replace the spine, Replace the organs running overtime. If perfection is a machine away, Why the fuck should I remain the same? [Verse 3] They say, "What if the technology malfunctions?" I say, "So does the body you're defending." What if firmware corrupts? What if the battery dies? What if something artificial starts rewriting my mind? What if I wake up and don't recognize the mirror? What if every upgrade makes humanity disappear? What if consciousness is tethered to the hardware? What if replacing every weakness leaves nothing human there? I know the questions. I simply don't respect them. Mortality itself is an imperfect system. Evolution never promised us perfection, It kept whatever survived the next selection. Maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I'm terrified. Maybe I want to see what I'd become if I redesigned Every limitation I've despised since I opened my eyes, And watched my old anatomy become obsolete overnight. [Bridge] Take the flesh. Take the blood. Take the weakness I was born with. Take the eyes. Take the lungs. Take whatever doesn't function. Install something better. Make it stronger. Make it sharper. Make it last. If the future has a doorway, I'll be kicking through the glass. [Verse 4] I don't care about the hypothetical obituary, Or scholars documenting my anatomical treachery. Let them call it unnatural, let them call it obscene, I'll call it evolution with a motherboard between. A synthetic heart doesn't need to understand romance, It needs to maintain uninterrupted performance. A cybernetic spine doesn't need to feel regret, It carries what the old one couldn't yet. I'll trade weakness, blindness, nausea, and decay For architecture engineered to disobey. Trade vulnerability for modular replacement, Biological entropy for perpetual maintenance. Maybe that's horrifying. Maybe that's the point. A body without weakness becomes something you can't destroy. A person without expiration becomes something undefined, And somewhere in the circuitry, I might recognize my mind. [Final Hook] So cut away, Don't leave a single failing piece behind me. Cut away, Build a body that the old one couldn't provide me. Replace the eyes, replace the spine, Replace whatever dares decline. If perfection is a machine away, I'll become what my flesh could never make. [Outro] My flesh fails me every day. I know it. I count it. I feel it. Beyond the warnings, Beyond the cost, Beyond the blood on the operating table, There is a version of me that doesn't apologize for being biological. If I dismantle myself piece by piece to find him, Then cut away.
