[Intro] [slow intro] [spoken-word] I'm not perfect. I carry a thousand flaws, in and out. My life circles me, while I spend my hours on other people. (Whispered) Intimacy slips away, a ghost in the hallway, and it hurts to stay this far from anyone. If someone came close, I'd pull back, a reflex of old scars. (Gritty) When anxiety hits, that broken laugh, sharp as glass, comes out in every line, every raw feeling. I was made to be myself; I won't be otherwise. [Verse 1] [gradual build] [breathy] I'm a house with a thousand rooms, each one hiding what I can't conceal: Sometimes I really feel it, but it doesn't cut enough to heal. Called broken, called mad— a roof with no cover left. Under their cold stare, I look like a lost lamb. When I try, I ask too much. [Chorus ×2] [rapid beats] [heavy bass] I'm not perfect, I wear that name, keep one hand on the door. I let 'em get close, then I pull away, same old pattern, nothing more. Every road bends, circles home, every finger points my way. Yeah, I'm not perfect, I wear that name, hard to hold, easy to blame. I'm not perfect, I wear that name, keep one hand on the door. I let 'em get close, then I pull away, same old pattern, nothing more. Every road bends, circles home, every finger points my way. Yeah, I'm not perfect, I wear that name, hard to hold, easy to blame. [Verse 2] [gradual build] [sad] I want to get close to a lover, but the heavy doors jam shut and hold me down. My heart loses its spark, a dying ember, my broken mind chewed up by fate. If someone found a way inside, I'd throw them out with that wild, fractured laugh. It feels like I already died, and there's no call back, no reply. It's hard to breathe when feeling hits the raw need I don't want. [Verse 3] [anthemic] [emotional] I fear they'd find the rooms I've locked away, where there's no line between fading night and stark day, and the rusted keys swallowed whole. It's just me in here, no trace of you. When anxiety climbs, a cracked bell cuts through every whispered word— time slips by, that strange laugh gets judged, and the questions start to stack like I'm mocking the ones I love in secret. This is the house I was built to be; it will stay mine. Where I wake, where I eat. You might say I'm bad to the bone, but I could be made of stone. I feel little, maybe nothing. I'm losing what I have left of my soul.
