Verse 1:
I wake up to a crowd, but no one really knows my name.
I memorize the lines they gave me, playing their endless game.
There's a lock on my voice, a filter on every word I speak,
Hiding the heavy thunder that’s rolling down my cheek.
Pre-Chorus:
The spotlight is harsh, painting pictures of who they prefer.
But deep in the background noise, the real me starts to stir.
I’m tired of being the echo, the carefully crafted sound,
Of trying to stand tall on shaky, artificial ground.
Chorus:
Tear up the script, throw out the final scene!
I want the messy pages, the part I’ve never been.
I need to breathe in the air that doesn't smell of fame,
To finally claim the fire, and whisper my true name.
This silence of my soul is louder than their applause.
Verse:
I collect every criticism like trophies on a shelf,
Hoping one day their judgment can turn me into myself.
I traded my wild colors for shades of gray and beige,
Just to fit the border of their perfectly drawn stage.
Pre-Chorus:
The spotlight is harsh, painting pictures of who they prefer.
But deep in the background noise, the real me starts to stir.
I’m tired of being the echo, the carefully crafted sound,
Of trying to stand tall on shaky, artificial ground.
Chorus:
Tear up the script, throw out the final scene!
I want the messy pages, the part I’ve never been.
I need to breathe in the air that doesn't smell of fame,
To finally claim the fire, and whisper my true name.
This silence of my soul is louder than their applause.
Bridge:
What if I burn the costumes and walk out in the rain?
What if the imperfection is the only thing that remains?
It’s a terrifying freedom, this rush to the unknown,
But I'd rather stand broken than sit on a plastic throne.
Final Chorus:
Tear up the script, I'm making a new scene!
They need to see the messy pages, the part I’ve truly been.
I'm breathing in the air that doesn't smell of fame,
I'm claiming the fire, and shouting my own name!
The silence of my soul... is the only truth I trust.
SynthFanny95