Verse 1 They dress it up in neon words and call it fantasy, Turn people into trophies and rename it destiny. Write scripts that blur the line until consent disappears, Then sell humiliation packaged up as cheers. But I don’t sing for chains disguised as love, Or stories where a person isn’t enough. If the script needs fear to make the scene ignite, Then I’m turning off the stage lights. Verse 2 Not every title deserves a crown, Some build their world by breaking people down. When language sounds like ownership or control, It leaves a stain deeper than the role. A body isn’t territory to claim, No one becomes less human for a name. If respect is gone before the first line starts, That’s not romance—it’s tearing hearts apart. Verse 3 I reject the scripts that glorify abuse, Where cruelty gets framed as some excuse. No applause for fear, no medals for pain, No calling someone “worthless” for entertainment gain. People aren’t objects, people aren’t prizes, And violence doesn’t soften in disguises. If degradation is the engine of the scene, Then I want no part of what it means. Verse 4 They market domination like it’s proof of care, But control without consent was never fair. No branding of a soul, no mark that says “mine,” No reducing someone to a warning sign. Love doesn’t erase another person’s voice, Real closeness still leaves room for choice. If freedom disappears before the end, That isn’t intimacy—it’s pretend. Verse 5 I hear the dialogue and shut the pages closed, When humanity gets traded for a pose. Words matter—what we normalize can stay, Long after the screen fades away. So I write against scripts that celebrate fear, Against jokes that say dignity disappears. No glamour in a cage no matter how it’s dressed, Respect should survive every test. Verse 6 Don’t tell me cruelty becomes art alone, When the whole script treats a person like a phone. Disposable, replaceable, easy to erase— That’s not connection, that’s empty space. No thrill in seeing kindness disappear, No beauty in control wrapped up as sincere. If the story strips somebody of their name, I won’t help carry that flame. Verse 7 I’m not fighting desire—I’m drawing a line, Between shared respect and crossing every sign. There’s enough room in the world for passion and heat, Without turning dignity into defeat. No crowns for coercion, no cheers for shame, No making harm a glamorous game. If your fantasy starts where respect has to end, Maybe rewrite what you defend. Verse 8 So here’s my chorus written verse by verse: People aren’t property—nothing’s more inverse. No script should celebrate taking someone apart, Or treat dehumanization as art. Call me old-fashioned, call me out of trend, I’ll still choose stories that don’t break to bend. Because the strongest line I know to sing Is that every person stays a human being.
