I speak one way when you’re around, Another when I’m on my own. I’ve built so many rooms inside me, I forget which one is home. Everyone gets a piece that fits them, A version tailored to their eyes. I’m not lying when I give it — I just don’t know which one’s the prize. ⸻ [Pre-Chorus] Take away the ones who’re watching, Tell me what is left to see. ⸻ [Chorus] Who am I When no one’s asking? Just a shape With the lights off. Every face I wear for someone Fits so well I can’t tell Where the mask ends And the mirror starts. ⸻ [Verse 2] My mother knows a careful son, My old friends know a reckless one. Strangers get the practiced version, Polished, brief, and easy won. I’ve played them all so long and often I stopped checking which was true. Maybe I’m not hiding someone — Maybe there’s no one under, too. ⸻ [Bridge – spoken, quiet] Maybe identity Isn’t a thing you find. Maybe it’s just The average of every room. ⸻ [Final Chorus] Who am I When no one’s asking? Just a pause Between the roles. Every face I wear for someone Is a little bit true, And none of them Is all of me. ⸻ [Outro] [Everything fades to a single held tone, then quiet room presence] Turn off the lights. Let’s see who’s still here.
