CW(Content Warning): There is one part that describes self harm as a manipulation tactic. If you're triggered by such things please listen with caution, or not at all. [Verse 1] She paints her halo with glitter glue, Cracks a smile that’s see-through blue. Feathers dipped in saccharine, Caged confession on nicotine skin. She chirps about her fragile heart, But every sob’s a work of art— Curtains drawn for sympathy, The leash leads down beneath. [Pre-Chorus] She flutters low, she pecks the ground, Soft voice sharp as a siren sound. Every tear’s a velvet knife, Giving kindness a hefty price. [Chorus] Barbie Bird, plastic wings, Crying loud while she pulls the strings. Pretty lies in a porcelain throat, Sinking friends just to stay afloat. Barbie Bird, sing your song, Broken record on repeat too long. Every “poor me” is rehearsed— fish in a birdcage, but reversed [Verse 2] She broad-casts her scars to the whole damn room, Turns her pain into pretty pink perfume. whispers lies like it's her lullabies, But claws are tucked beneath fake alibi's. Every private secret ammunition, Every tight hug a proposition. She says “help me or I’ll jump,” But she’s the maker of her own dump. [Pre-Chorus] She flutters low, she pecks the ground, Halo tilted like a crooked crown. Every crack’s a masterpiece, Every plea chained to a leash. [Chorus] Barbie Bird, plastic wings, Crying loud while she pulls the strings. Pretty lies in a porcelain throat, Sinking friends just to stay afloat. Barbie Bird, sing your song, Broken record on repeat too long. Every “poor me” is rehearsed— fish in a birdcage, but reversed [Bridge] Glass cage, she decorates the bars, With half-assed art and plastic stars. You think you’re saving someone small, But she’s the hand that built the wall. Toxic and selfish are her pro-nouns, The higher you lift her, the faster you'll drown. [Final Chorus / Outro] Barbie Bird, play pretend, Turn beginnings into bitter ends. Candy-coated, venom laced, Smile painted on a hollow face. Barbie Bird, flies away, but... Her song still haunts you as the music fades. Every “poor me” is rehearsed— fish in a birdcage, but reversed
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