BLOODY HANDS

[Intro] Yeah… You wanted honesty? Bet. --- [Verse 1] I been sleepin’ with the monsters in my attic, Feeding every single one like it's a habit. Guess I’m tragic— Or maybe I’m just bored of bein’ passive, So I’m carving all my trauma into classic Little stories for the masses— You clap at it. I’m the villain and the victim in the same breath, Sharp tongue, split soul, like a stained mess. Tryna outrun all the shadows that my brain bred, But every time I kill a thought, it comes back sayin’, “Let’s play death.” Yeah, I’m over it. Still I hold the grip— On the blade that’s rusted with the things I won’t admit. If I told you what I really think, you’d probably throw a fit, But I’m done whisperin’. You get what you fuckin' get. --- [Hook] Say you want the real me? Cool—here’s the corpse. I’ve been tryna keep the peace, But you’re at war with remorse. If the truth is too loud, Close the fuckin’ door, ‘Cause I’m done bein’ clean— Now my teeth on the floor. --- [Verse 2] Look— I’ve been hollow since the moment that my halo cracked, Turned my heartbeat to a weapon, now it’s aimed to snap. If you dig inside my chest, you’ll only find a faded map Leading nowhere, but the signage says “I’ll be right back.” I’m a mess— Not the cute kind you romanticize, Not the sad-boy trope for your lullabies. I’m the type to resurrect the pain you tried to hide, Turn it into art then serve it raw like cyanide. Call it petty, call it broken, call it anything, I ain’t tryna fit inside the boxes that you cherry-pick. Every time you label me, I peel another layer, Till the skin you’re tryna judge Ain’t even there to stick. --- [Hook] Say you want the real me? Cool—here’s the corpse. I’ve been tryna keep the peace, But you’re at war with remorse. If the truth is too loud, Close the fuckin’ door, ‘Cause I’m done bein’ clean— Now my teeth on the floor. --- [Bridge] I’m not your puppet, not your savior, not your therapy. Don’t pretend you want the truth— You just want the tame version of me. But I’ve bled too much to filter what I’m thinkin’, If the honesty is poison, Then I guess we both drinkin’. --- [Outro] So yeah— Next time you want the “old me,” Read the warning on the tag. He ain’t comin’ back. I buried him behind the house With all the shit you made me drag.