[Intro] You're the mask I wear too well— the thrill, the lie, the hard sell. Even if it is two sizes too small, it can even cause a swell! Well, my inner monster is the stupid nitpicking wit upstairs! Too bad I log every lie I sell myself up there! (Hah!) [Verse One] So, tell me! What’s the truth again?! Did I say something sharp—did I mean it then? Or am I just peeling paint, Eating it again, licking the walls, Somehow gaslighting myself. That I'm repainting the walls into something that is bold and totally not about to fall! Well... [Pre-Chorus] Why are we still here?! Running relapses in the mirror?! (HA!) Pretty little phrases- Don’t fix ugly faces. [Chorus] The therapist says I'm too much, It’s always, “Why so loud? Why so crushed?” Dear, you write like you know too much— Not even old enough—still with an underdeveloped frontal cortex— to even incur a gambling debt. So— (Duh-duh-duh) Chin up, eyes shut, Keep lying 'til it looks like luck. You're not broken—just made up. Your problems? Not even deep enough. (Hah!) [Verse Two] So, tell me! What’s the truth again?! Scraping teeth on the asylum walls 'til my gums rot off! Gone six feet deep and still not far enough! The dirt and the gravel and plaster walls- Totally something you won't forget at all... But nothing compared to my internal walls, Mind heavier than a bowling ball, Neck's giving out, and it’s no metaphor at all— Might need a rope just to keep me tall! Oh! No... [Break] [Bridge] They say a man has three faces, Oh! And grief has seven phases. Oh! What's with the long face, eh? It's time that you face it. (You are- unwell.) (You are- unwell.) So, time to swap faces, Oh! Bottle your tears and... Please wait for it to swell and send glass shards straight into the air! OH! [Pre-Chorus] Why are we still here?! Running relapses in the mirror?! (HA!) Pretty little phrases- Don’t fix ugly faces. (Duh-duh-duh.) [Chorus] The therapist says I'm too much, It’s always, “Why so loud? Why so crushed?” Dear, you write like you know too much— Not even old enough—still with an underdeveloped frontal cortex— to even incur a gambling debt. So— (Duh-duh-duh) Chin up, eyes shut, Keep lying 'til it looks like luck. You're not broken—just made up. Your problems? Not even deep enough. (Hah!) [Outro] Ooh!- [Created and Written by @thexfool with Suno AI]
