Iron my edges, sand down my voice, Turn every instinct into a choice. I tried to fold myself into your crowd, You said “stand up straight, don’t laugh so loud”. You don’t like my friends—nah, of course you don’t. Too loud, too drunk, too real, they won’t, Sit still in your little clean lines. They don’t nod at your opinions all the time. I wore your standards like a crown of thorns, Cut myself down just to be reborn. But every time I almost do— I’m still not enough for you. Yeah maybe I was never meant, To be enough for you. You want a version I can’t maintain, A neutered dog on a silver chain. Break my spine, adjust my view— Say “now there’s something I can use”. Your voice. In my head. Biting down. Till I bled. I wore your standards like a crown of thorns, Cut myself down just to be reborn. But every time I almost do— I’m still not enough for you. Too much noise. Too much heart. Too much truth. From the start. I wore your standards like a crown of thorns, Cut myself down just to be reborn. But every time I almost do— I’m still not enough for you. I’m still not enough for you. I’m still not enough for you.
