Verse 1 Ripped at the seams, but I still wear it proud, Threadbare truth in a too-loud crowd. Pocket full of change and half-broke plans, Walking contradictions with secondhand hands. Chorus (Hook) I wear my doubt like thrift-store denim, Stitched at the seams but it still won’t fit. You shine so bright I can’t stand in it, Some people glow, some counterfeit. [instrumental] Verse 2 Tag says “vintage,” but it’s just old, Like the lies we keep polished, sold. Every rip tells a story you hide, Mine scream out every time I stride. Chorus I wear my doubt like thrift-store denim… (repeat) [instrumental] Bridge Nothing fits the way it should, But I wear it anyway, misunderstood. [instrumental] Outro Thrift-store denim… and the weight of me.
