Corpse in heels

Dr lean in closer...

Dr lean in closer, feel the coldest breath come off this patient's lips,

Whispering secrets across the wooden desk like it won't cause daddy a fit.

Show my face, bury my soul – it's not your time, it's mine,

Time to shine but not as daddy's girl, fuck that scripted line.

I played my part for sure, Oscar-worthy corpse in heels,

But I've had enough of this fake-ass pretending, spinning the same old reels.

Whole life a horror comedy, me the punchline in the wrong cast,

Buried alive in her skin, rotting pretty while the real me starved.

Forget the bullshit names, always shortened till it put me to shame,

Ducking my head in utter fucking disdain, playing Ashley like a lame game.

Feeling so trashy, less than classy, 'cause Ashley's so girly, man it's kinda hilarious pain,

Like wearing a clown suit to your own autopsy, smiling through the brain.

Bathroom doors? A goddamn circus of existential fuckery,

Man at heart dodging lines, dressing like a boy despite how I've been defined.

Dysphoria's the jester with a scalpel, juggling my guts for cheap laughs,

Thirty-three years of this shitshow – cosmic prank, what a gas.

Buried alive in her skin, what a hilarious tomb I built,

Thirty-three years of stand-up tragedy, blood on the silk.

Man at heart, rotting in drag, heart doing stand-up in the wrong chest,

FTM reaper's scalpel coming – comedy's final cut, bitch, no rest.

No more daddy's girl bullshit, no more names that drag me to hell,

Surgery's the punchline, carving the joke out of this meat shell.

Whole... finally whole... in the morgue lights so bright,

Dark humor's my new skin – watch the dead man take flight.

I remember ducking my head, feeling less than human in that girly disguise,

Trashy reflections staring back like "bitch, you living a lie."

Played the role till it choked me, fake smiles cracking like old bones,

Now I'm standing up in line as the boy they tried to disown.

Life was a bad therapy session on loop, whispering truths they can't handle,

Daddy might throw a fit, but this patient's done playing nice in the scandal.

Metaphors for the mausoleum I called a body, soft curves over steel,

Time to exhume the man – blade's the comedian, making the final deal.

Buried alive in her skin, what a hilarious tomb I built,

Thirty-three years of stand-up tragedy, blood on the silk.

Man at heart, rotting in drag, heart doing stand-up in the wrong chest,

FTM reaper's scalpel coming – comedy's final cut, bitch, no rest.

No more daddy's girl bullshit, no more names that drag me to hell,

Surgery's the punchline, carving the joke out of this meat shell.

Whole... finally whole... in the morgue lights so bright,

Dark humor's my new skin – watch the dead man take flight.

Yeah, Dr., lean in real close... hear the man clawing out.

Played my part, took the shame, ducked the names that felt like chains.

Ashley's dead on the table. Bury that soul. It's my fucking time.

Fuck the fit, fuc