[Verse 1] I’ve been flat on my back since who-knows-when, My Fitbit thinks I died in 2010. I dream ‘bout stairs like they’re Shangri-La, And lifting a jug of milk? The final hurrah. [Chorus] But when I get outta this bed, oh baby look out— I’ll carry three bags of groceries, then shout! I’ll walk up stairs just for the fun, Then walk back down like “Well, that’s done.” I’ll split a churro with a stranger named Ted, Double-dip salsa with no fear or dread. I’ll live so loud it’ll wake the dead— When I finally escape from this blanket-bred bed. [Verse 2] I’ll go to a concert just to stand real near, Let a toddler sneeze directly in my ear. I’ll try on shoes I don’t intend to buy, And whisper “freedom” as I reach top shelf high. I’ll deadlift a couch just to flex my might, Then promptly pull something outta spite. I’ll carry a watermelon up three flights of stairs— Just to remind gravity I’m still there! [Chorus] When I get outta this bed, I’ll go full tilt, Do push-ups poorly and be full of guilt. I’ll hug ten people in a grocery store, Then immediately need to nap some more. I’ll high-five a mime, steal fries off a plate, Talk way too loud on a first date. There’s no telling what nonsense lies ahead— When I break parole from this queen-sized bed! [Bridge] I’ll bench press joy and squat some laughs, Power-walk through random crafts. Sign up for Zumba and leave halfway, Yell “I’m free!” in a Chick-fil-A! [Final Chorus] When I get outta this bed, there’ll be no chill— I’ll overdo it, then nap against my will. Climb a mountain? Nah—just one stairwell, Then lie down flat and text “I’m swell.” I’ll pass a tray of nachos around, With double cheese and zero bound. So bless my soul and sleepy head— ‘Cause I’m ready to rise from this hostage bed! [Outro spoken, with steel guitar twang] First goal: touch my toes. Second goal: stand up after.
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