Real Skin, Fake Scars Verse 1 You say I need a shattered past, A broken home, a bleeding mask. A perfect wreck to earn my voice— As if pain was ever a choice. You count your scars like currency, Trade old ghosts for sympathy. Every chorus sounds the same… Different face, recycled pain. Pre-Chorus Truth doesn’t come with torn-up sleeves. It lives in what nobody sees. Chorus Real skin. Fake scars. Selling darkness in designer hearts. You wear your damage like a brand— Then call it something I won’t understand. Keep your myth. Keep your disguise. I’m not built from borrowed lies. Verse 2 You preach authenticity, Then polish every tragedy. Every wound fits every trend, Until the next one pays again. Don’t tell me I can’t dream because I never drowned where you once was. Creation doesn’t beg permission. It doesn’t need your superstition. Bridge You don’t own sorrow. You don’t own grief. Pain isn’t proof. It isn’t belief. The saddest thing I’ve ever seen Is someone acting hurt to feel supreme. Final Chorus Real skin. Fake scars. Your reflection never matched your heart. You drew your cracks in black ink lines— Then sold them as a sacred sign. I’ll build worlds you never knew, Without pretending they were true. Your chains are made of yesterday… Mine were never there anyway. Outro You worship suffering. I choose creation. That’s the difference. That’s the revelation.
