Fresh aired lungs.

Innocent? in a sense with a scent of mint..
Sentiment... small testament.. not what i meant!
In a vest to invest in the crest of your chest
Its a mess.. its a stress.. and I'm not impressed

We invent, in vents.. to ventilate.. its been to late..
But I wait.. for the date or a trade for the aid of what's made
In our tale, it entails, some trails of entrails down the rails.

Inside, in your side of the pride that you ride.
Its a sign of the spine in the brine of your shine.
And you whine while you dine on yours and mine!
In this tent, this intent with intense shoulders tense
It's expensive, the ex is pensive was defensive.

Sensitive? i sense it is. it was his on a quiz but flunked
This is  bunk, i debunked that the skunk had the stank
Of the skank down the bank of the blank septic tank
Oh it smells, but it helps with spells that I felt on the felt
Now I melt with the quelle and swell of the well..
just a shell of the hell that i dwell.. just until I rebel...