Opaque

Walking in the city where my body feels weighty
Jogging 'round the garden where my vision is blurry
Lying near the seaside till my burns are third degree
Running in the forest while my lungs are exploding

Carving paths of leisure, pain is for the slaggy ones
Craving nasty pleasures, time goes faster than it comes
Holding childhood flashbacks like they're automatic guns
Driving to the office job that bends our lower backs