[INTRO] 2 3 5 7. Let's go [Verse 1] I wear it sharp — the laugh, the lean, the lacquered ease of being seen. You’d never guess the silk is grief, that every thread conceals a reef. I walk the math. I dress the proof — how fabric falls from jaw to hoof. But stillness is a kind of debt, and nakedness? Not paid off yet. [Refrain 1] So don’t turn the light on. Don’t name what you meant. I’m only real when I’m absent — I’m beauty by consent. [Verse 2] I’ve played the court. I’ve crowned the night. I’ve whispered truths with perfect bite. My mouth — a forge of flawless flame, my silence — tailored, never tame. They say I’m made for what I do. They say it softer when it’s true. They build their vision on my edit, love the skin, ignore who fed it. [Chorus 1] Don’t get too close — you’ll touch the seam. Don’t raise the light — you’ll kill the dream. It holds together, but not in sight. Don’t make me wear what doesn’t fit right. [Verse 3] I lead with voice — it clears the door. It gets there first, it knows the floor. Even my laughter lands with grace — rehearsed enough to leave no trace. I’ve got the range. I’ve got the tools. I keep them sharp. I play by rules. I wear this self the way some pray — no room to falter, no decay. [Chorus 2] Don’t read too far — you’ll see the bend. Don’t ask for names — they end a friend. It fits your palm, but breaks in mine. And don’t call it freedom if I can’t cross the line. [Bridge] You call me perfect in the dark. It lands — it lingers — it leaves no mark. You never lie. That’s not the sin. You never needed to look within. You trace me well — where I allow. The rest belongs to someone now. He lives beneath the frame you see — and no one asks if he can be. [Refrain 2] So don’t turn the light on. Don’t reach for the scar. I’m whole enough if you stay where you are. Each perfect part was placed, not born. Please love the pose — ignore the torn. [Verse 4] I’m not withholding — just unsure how to display what can’t endure. A pattern sewn in doubt, then worn too long to tell what it adorned. It isn’t fear, it isn’t shame — just echoes lacking any name. At night, the song still holds its pitch. By morning, though — the stage has switched. [Verse 5] I’ve lit the rooms in lowered tones — warmth with edges, set in stone. A kind of welcome no one chose — it keeps them close, but not too close. You say that’s kindness. I say no. It’s just a system for control. A life in layers, not in whole. A face you meet — not one you know. [Verse 6] There are rooms that don’t inquire. There are hands that don’t require. They drift through silence, call it yes — a contract made without duress. I built a grammar made of space — of breath, of posture, not of place. Now every word I try to say feels orphaned halfway through the day. [Verse 7] I’m not requesting to be saved. I’m not demanding proof engraved. I want one place — it doesn’t shout — where I can let the ceiling out. If I unfold, it won’t be staged. No curtain. No applause. No page. It will be still, and mine alone — a moment made not shown. [Verse 8] I used to think that I could stand without rehearsal, without plan. To be — without a prop or cue. To stay. To breathe. To make it through. But even dreaming makes me squint — not out of shame, or some lament. It’s just instinct — that half-blind scan for angles where the danger ran. [Verse 9] I’ve read my name in unread books. I’ve heard my worth in second looks. I’ve spent whole hours crafting sense from signals wrapped in self-defense. Not broken. Not complete. Just stretched — a tense rehearsal, tightly sketched. A body mimed in every pose — all exit signs, no open doors. [Verse 10] I gauge the space by how light moves, I read the exit in its grooves. I soften shape, I ghost the air, I know how not to settle there. This isn’t fear. It isn’t luck. It’s breath by breath, without the cut. It’s not survival — not quite death — but living just outside the breath. [Final Refrain / Outro] So don’t turn the light on. Just come. Just stay. Some truths dissolve when seen in day. So don’t turn the light on. Don’t chase where I went. I’m only real when I’m absent — I’m beauty by consent. When the world looks away… No. When the world.... looks AT! I’m beauty. By consent!!!!
