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Lyrics
[Intro]
Two a.m., just me and the ceiling
Again
Okay, ceiling
Let's actually talk this time
[Verse 1]
I've been the cutest girl in every room since seventeen
Doors just kind of opened, and I never asked what doors could mean
Free drinks and front-row favors, every curve graded on a curve
Smiled my way through everything — got everything but the word
And I never had to wonder if there's something underneath
'Cause nobody ever asked me, and that's easier than grief
[Verse 2]
But there's a hundred cute at my gym, and honey, I've done the math
I might be number one some days, but two through five are on my heels
Cute's a crowd, not a category, it's a costume, not a self
And the one man I can't shake don't even shop that shelf
He walked past every mirror girl like weather past a lawn
What's it take to register to a man whose eyes are gone?
[Chorus]
'Cause cute opened all my doors
And I never asked why they swung
Turns out pretty's just the cover charge
It ain't the show, it ain't the song
And I've been spending what I didn't earn
On rooms I didn't choose
Time to build a thing that's mine
(...and this time it's actually true)
[Verse 3]
And let's be honest with the ceiling 'bout the winter I just had
The schedule I could quote you, the deep-dive, the screenshot stash
I built a whole case study and I labeled it a crush
Cross-referenced, organized — girl, who DOES that? ...Hush.
Someone does that. Someone smart. Someone wasted on the scroll
I researched a stranger better than I've ever researched my own soul
[Verse 4]
His orange bottle's beat to hell, stickers from a life
Maui, and that hoodie, and the years he paid in iron and time
My bottle's pink and spotless, not a single story on it yet
You don't get stickers being looked at, you get stickers being IN it
He's not cuter than the young guys — Lord, that's not the pull at all
He's just realer than the room, and real is rarer than beautiful
[Chorus]
'Cause cute opened all my doors
And I never asked why they swung
Turns out pretty's just the cover charge
It ain't the show, it ain't the song
And I've been spending what I didn't earn
On rooms I didn't choose
Time to build a thing that's mine
(...and this time it's actually true)
[Bridge]
No, I'm not getting that man — there's a headphones-off woman, I know
And a girl should want a whole one, her own decade, her own road
But if I ever earn one nod, the kind he gives the ones who work
Not the look I always get — the other one — the measured one
That'd be worth more than the mirror's ever paid me
And someday some man built like that inside will find what I'm building lately
[Outro]
So, seven thirty, ceiling. Deal.
Heavier than yesterday
And a book — his book — then mine to pick
First sticker pending
Chapter two
Clocked in
(...actually true)
Details
GeneratedJul 31, 2026
Duration3:50
LanguageEnglish
Style
Dark pop with a moody late-night bedroom feel. Youthful female lead vocal, early twenties character, cool and conversational — intimate talk-sung verses delivered like she's confiding in her sister at 2 a.m., opening into a big, glossy, self-assured sung chorus. Punchy syncopated bass groove throughout. Sparse verse instrumentation: muted synth pulses, finger snaps, subtle electric piano. Choruses bloom with warm analog synth layers, tight modern drums, and airy stacked harmonies. The bridge strips down to almost nothing — bare vocal over soft pads, vulnerable and reflective — then the outro rebuilds with quiet determination instead of a big finish, ending resolved and hopeful on a near-spoken final line. Mood is self-aware, wry, confessional but never sad: a growth song, not a heartbreak song. Crisp contemporary pop production with space and dynamics, radio sheen without bubblegum brightness.
Credits
Prompt by
The_SCAR
The_SCARModelAria v5.5
