CLUMSY

🎵 CLUMSY

Verse 1

There are moments when I see

Brokenness surrounding me,

Wrapping everything around

Like a home I’ve always found.

Then I remember quietly,

I’m broken too, imperfectly,

And all this nostalgia I roam,

Is simply where I learned my home.

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Verse 2

So I try to fix myself,

With borrowed tools upon a shelf,

Glue and duct tape, little nails,

Colorful stickers telling tales.

I’m no carpenter, it’s true,

Just doing what I know to do,

Trying to make something beautiful

From every crack I stumble through.

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Pre-Chorus

Every time I break apart,

Whether by fate or my own heart,

Accidents seem to find my way,

Even when I stand in place.

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Chorus

So I gather all my pieces,

Every fracture, every crease,

Patch them up with colors bright,

Turn my wrongs into delight.

Glue and duct tape, hopes and dreams,

Nothing’s ever what it seems,

Every scar becomes a part

Of the masterpiece of my heart.

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Verse 3

I look composed from far away,

Like everything is planned each day,

And somehow, yes, I built a frame

To catch the pieces when they came.

Shields around me standing tall,

Guarding me from every fall,

But silly me, I hand out keys

To every storm that visits me.

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Chorus

So I gather all my pieces,

Every fracture, every crease,

Patch them up with colors bright,

Turn my wrongs into delight.

Glue and duct tape, hopes and dreams,

Nothing’s ever what it seems,

Every scar becomes a part

Of the masterpiece of my heart.

⸻

Bridge

Maybe breaking isn’t loss,

Maybe beauty has a cost,

Maybe every shattered line

Makes a different way to shine.

Maybe all these accidents

Are tiny gifts in strange events,

Pieces scattered here and there,

Waiting for a soul to care.

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Final Chorus

So I gather all my pieces,

Every fracture, every crease,

Paint them gold and paint them wild,

Like a curious little child.

Glue and duct tape, hopes and dreams,

Flowing through my patched-up seams,

Every piece has found its role

In the mosaic of my soul.

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Outro

My life’s a quirky art project,

Full of colors I collect,

And every piece keeps making room

For wonder still to bloom.

My clumsy…

Curious…

Artist little soul…