Crown of Thorns, Crown of Teeth

[Intro] Gold don’t sit soft on a head like mine. Every point draws blood. Every jewel has eyes. [Verse 1] I learned early how the room picks winners, how a smile gets weighed with the body behind it. So I made my charm walk sharper than pity, let the soft hands clap while the trap rewired it. They wanted a monster with thunder in the doorway. I came well-dressed. I came low-voiced. I let them laugh at the crooked little shadow, then taught that shadow how to choose. Brother by brother, the floor got quieter. Name by name, the wine turned brave. I kissed the ring on a hand I’d cut from, then sent fresh flowers to the grave. Don’t ask the crown where the bodies went. It only bites when the light gets close. Every thorn in the gold knows me, every tooth in the circle grows. [Chorus] Crown of thorns. Crown of teeth. Put it on slow, let it bite me deep. If the room wants blood, then the room can eat. Crown of thorns. Crown of teeth. [Verse 2] I sold them mercy with a funeral face on, eyes wet once, then dry by noon. Made my grief look holy in public, made my hunger look overdue. There’s a widow at the gate with a curse in her mouth. There’s a child in the tower with a small locked sky. There’s a city full of windows learning not to ask what passed them by. I don’t need love. Love has witnesses. I don’t need trust. Trust keeps receipts. Give me fear with a velvet handle. Give me law with a missing piece. I can make a prayer sound like a contract. I can make a knife look clean. By the time they see the teeth in the halo, they already crowned the thing. [Chorus] Crown of thorns. Crown of teeth. Put it on slow, let it bite me deep. If the room wants blood, then the room can eat. Crown of thorns. Crown of teeth. [Bridge] Here is the trick: never snarl first. Let them call you wounded before they call you worse. Let pity be perfume. Let grievance be glass. Let every insult be a door you pass. Then lock it. Then bless it. Then kneel like a saint. Then rise with the key and a mouth full of names. I am not fate. I am not grief. I am what happens when a crown grows teeth. [Final Chorus] Crown of thorns. Crown of teeth. Put it on slow, let it bite me deep. If the room wants blood, then the room can eat. I wore the wound till it crowned the beast. [Outro] Gold don’t sit soft on a head like mine. Every point draws blood. Every tooth learned why. [End]